Cavere
by kilakia
Summary: Skylar Russell was just an ordinary eleven year old-until the day her whole family is slaughtered by demons. She wouldn't have escaped alive if it weren't for three men-Sam, Dean, and Cas. Now, with no family, she is taken in by Dean, much to Sam and Cas's disapproval. Even though Skylar misses her family, she realizes Dean might just be the friend she needs most.
1. Chapter 1

"No! No!" I try to scream as I see the two men with black eyes slaughter my parents. My brother covers my mouth before a single sound can escape my mouth. I let out a sob, which the men hear.

"Go, Skylar. Go _now_," my older brother demands. I start crawling further into the air vents that we've been hiding in for an hour now. I cut my hand on a nail that's sticking up. It hurts, but I keep going. I'm so scared, but I keep on crawling. I hear my brother's screams and a sob escaped my chest. I knew he was dead, and I was just happy they killed him quickly. He would be in heaven, I hoped.

Still, I can't let myself die. I keep moving. I push myself deeper and deeper into the air vents. Of course, that's my number one mistake. I end up going too far and end up crawling out on the other side of the room, one story up. The men with the black eyes appear next to me immediately and grab my arms. "Please don't hurt me!" I cry, although I know it is useless. I see the bloody and dead bodies of my family, and know that the same fate awaits me if a miracle doesn't happen.

The men tie me up to the same wooden chair they slaughtered my parents on. There is blood on the seat, so much of it. The blood stains my clothes, which are already covered in sweat, dirt, and grease. The two men stand a few feet away from me, looking at me with an amused expression. "What shall we do with her?" one of them asks. I can see from the gleam in his eye that they aren't planning anything good.

"You know, girl. We killed your whole family. Your cousins, your aunts, your uncles, your grandparents. You know why? Just for fun! Ha!" the second man says.

"What kind of sick people are you?" I say, trying for a last attempt of being brave. It's stupid, I know. I know it's pointless, waiting out the inevitable. But if I can keep them talking, then maybe, just maybe, I have a chance of living. It's slim, but it's all I've got.

"We ain't people, sweetie. We're much worse than that. You could say that we're directly descended from the devil himself," one of the men says, an evil smirk on his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask them, and I really am curious. Why not find out as much as I possibly can before I die?

"We're demons, from the pits of hell," the other says, a blood soaked smile on his face.

"Aren't demons supposed to be made out of black goo and dark matter or something?" I ask them. That's what I heard in books and stuff, so that's all I knew about them.

"Cute," one of them says. The demon turns to his friend and says, "You know what, I think she needs to die. She knows too much."

"You're right," the other says. "Can I kill her? You got to kill all the other ones. I want to make this one nice and slow and painful." I don't like the sound of that. I'm still holding out for that miracle, but as the blade approaches my neck, I know that it's not going to happen.

The blade slowly cuts into my flesh, making a thin cut. It would take days for me to bleed to death with a cut this small, I realize. The cut would heal before then. Then the demon scrapes it against my face, and I cringe, which only makes it worse. "This one's not much of a screamer, I see. Boring!" the demon says. He drives the blade towards my heart, slowly making his way. I still don't scream, even though I've never felt more intense pain in my life.

Just before he pierces the pulsing, beating, organ, a knife pops out of his chest and his eyes glow a strange orange and red. The knife is pulled back through his chest and he drops dead on the floor. I'm losing blood so fast that I can barely make out my saviors. "Cas, quick, heal her! She's going to bleed to death if we don't do something!" a gruff male voice shouts. I am about to pass out, when I feel smooth fingers on my forehead. I am instantly healed. I don't have a single scratch on me. The only remnants of my wounds is the wet blood covering my body.

I feel the rope that binds my hands and feet being sawed away. "What's your name?" the gruff male voice asks. I look in the direction I heard the voice and see three people. One is gigantically tall and moose like, one is wearing a trench coat and a suit, and the one who is talking to me is wearing a leather jacket, jeans, and a green flannel.

"Skylar," I say, although it comes out garbled. I cough up blood on the ground and try again. "Skylar," I repeat.

"How old are you, Skylar?" the same man asks me.

It takes me a while, because of what just happened. "Eleven," I say. It's strange that it took me so long to remember my age.

"Just a kid," the guy murmurs. "Do you have any extended family? Maybe an aunt or an uncle or a cousin?" he asks me.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "They're all dead. Those men, er, _demons_, killed them all," I say. I look at my family's dead bodies, and let another sob escape my throat. "What's going to happen with me?" I ask them, my eyes shining with tears.

Gigantor the talking moose talks to the man who's been talking to me. "Yeah, Dean, what can we do with her? There might be more demons who are still want her dead, or worse."

"I don't know, Sammy. We can't just leave her in an orphanage or something," the guy, apparently called Dean, says. They are talking in loud whispers, trying to keep me from hearing or something, I suppose. I can still hear them, so I don't see the real point.

"We can take her to Garth's," the moose man, Sammy, says.

"Look how well that turned out last time," Dean says, rolling his eyes. "She can't go there, either."

"Well, what do you suggest we do with her then, Dean? It's not like we can take her back to the bunker," Sammy says. Dean raises an eyebrow. "Dean, that's a terrible idea."

Dean comes over to me and says, before anyone can stop him, "Skylar, we have a bunker a few hours away. It's the safer than any place in the world, so you won't have to worry about demons coming to get you."

"Dean, I do not think this is a good idea," the man with the trench coat says, his voice deep and gravelly.

"She's got nobody. She's our responsibility now," Dean claims, and I can sense from what I've seen so far that, when he makes up his mind, it's hard to change it.

"Do you even know how to take care of a kid, Dean?" Sam says, and Dean shoots him a look of pure venom. "I'm sorry, I forgot about that. But she's a _girl_, Dean. Girls are a lot different than boys."

"Guys, I'm not that hard to take care of. Give me a credit card and make sure to feed me and I'll be okay," I object.

"See?" Dean says, gesturing towards me. "I know one thing, Sam. She's _our_ responsibility now. You don't have to care about her; I'll take care of her regardless. I don't need your help," he says.

At this moment, I feel really warmed. This stranger is being so kind to me, even though he doesn't even know me. He's willing to take care of me, for the rest of my life, just because I have no where else to go. "Fine. Nothing's changing your mind, I can see. Let's go," Sam says, throwing his hands up.

"Um, can I take a shower first and change my clothes before we go?" I ask them. They look at me, confused. "If you haven't noticed, I'm covered in my own blood. I'd prefer not to be when I go in a long car ride," I say, being a little snarky. It's all I can do to keep from crying my eyes out.

"Okay, stuff as many clothes as you can in a duffle bag. But make sure it's all practical. T-shirts, jeans, a jacket. No frilly dresses or anything," he says.

I look at him like he's crazy. "What kind of person do you think I am?" I ask him. He doesn't seem to understand. Before I leave the room altogether, I mutter something about frilly dresses. I'm pretty sure I see Dean smile out of the corner of my eyes.

Did you know that it's really hard to wash blood out of your hair? I didn't even get hurt on my head, my hair just happened to stick to my shirt very well. I wondered if I would ever get the red tint out of my hair and off of my skin.

After scrubbing for half an hour, I realize that it's pointless. I will have the red tint to my skin for a long time, and I honestly don't even care anymore. I put on an old Fun concert T-Shirt and my favorite pair of jeans, with a pair of black combat boots and big leather jacket. It's the only sensible outfit I have, and it isn't even mine for the most part. The jeans and the jacket are my brother's. I only have the concert t-shirt because I really like the band Fun and I went to their concert a few months back. I only have combat boots because I like combat boots.

I look through my closet and realize there's nothing of mine that I can bring, so I raid my brother's closet. In a sense, I am honoring him, and remembering him. He's only two years older than me, well he was, before he died. Anyway, that means that all of his clothes are a little big on me, but not so big that I can't fit in them. The only thing I can't fit in are his shoes, which is fine.

I look in the long mirror in my room. My face is stained with blood and tears. My long copper brown hair hangs limp at my side. I don't look like the happy girl I was last week, before all this killing started. Before today, my hair served some sort of purpose. I can't remember what, but I know that there's no point in it now. I take a pair of safety scissors that I used for a recent school project and start hacking off my hair, piece by piece. Before long, it comes to a jagged edge just below my chin. I run my fingers through it, trying to make it look better, but there is no real point.

I look at myself in the mirror again, just before I start heading down the stairs. I say goodbye to Skylar Russell. I'm not sure who I will become, but the person I was before is long gone.

When I get down the stairs, Sam, Dean, and the trench coat man (I still have no clue who he is or how the hell he healed me), are waiting. "Wow, Skylar. You took so long that Cas was able to get you a fake birth certificate and passport," Dean says, in a joking tone. But I could see a piece of paper and a little blue book in the trench coat man's hand. So he is Cas. Interesting.

"You cut your hair," Sam notices. I shrug, and laugh a little on the inside when I realize my hair's shorter than his.

"Ready to go, kid?" Dean asks me. I nod, and he takes my duffle bag from me. We walk outside my house and I notice my dead family, still on the floor.

"We have to bury them," I insist.

"Sorry, we can't. The police need to find them. I'm sorry, it just has to happen that way. I know, it sucks, but it has to happen," Sam says. I look to Dean for help. He shrugs, and I know that all my hope is lost.

Dean leads me out to his car. He opens the back door for me, throwing my duffle bag in. I squeeze in next to the bag. Sam gets in the passenger seat, Dean taking the role as driver. Cas hands Dean the ID and birth certificate through the window, and then disappears. Like seriously, he disappeared right into thin air. I try not to act confused, but it's nearly impossible. "He's an angel. He does that," Dean explains briefly.

We start heading out the driveway, and I stare out the window at the miles and miles of road. Before long, I am asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

I feel someone shaking me awake, and I open my eyes to see Dean. "Hey, wake up, Skylar," he says. I see Sam fast asleep in the passenger seat. It's funny, he snores like a moose, too.

"Where are we?" I ask him, rubbing my eyes. I look around, and I can see it's still in the middle of the night.

"Tattoo parlor somewhere in Kansas," he says. I'm confused. "Yeah, we forgot to mention something kind of important. Demons possess humans, and the only way to keep them from doing so is by having an anti possession symbol permanently etched into your skin. Some people use branding, but tattoos work just as good," he says.

It takes me a while to realize why he just told me that. "So I have to get a tattoo," I realize. Dean nods. I get out of the car and we walk to a really shady looking shack in the middle of downtown somewhere-in-Kansas. "Don't tattoos really hurt?" I ask him.

Dean chuckles. "You just went through getting a knife slowly driven into your heart, and you're worried about a little tattoo." I feel embarrassed for saying what I said, but at the same time, I'm angry at him for making a joke out of that. I stop walking. "Hey, calm down. I'm just trying to lighten the mood a little. I'm sorry," he says. I forgive him instantly, considering he did save my life.

We walk into the shack, where a beefy, motorcycle dude is giving a lady a tattoo in what looks like a very uncomfortable spot. "All done, Shirley," the man says when we walk in, slapping that particular area on the lady. "What can I do for you?" he asks us.

"My daughter would like a tattoo. It's her birthday, you see," Dean starts rambling on, but the tattoo guy cuts him off.

"Don't need to hear any stories. Give me money, and I'll give you a tattoo. Simple as that," he says. Dean and I are kind of stunned, but impressed at the same time. "Got a design you want?" he asks me. I gesture towards Dean, who hands the man a piece of paper with a weird symbol.

"Okay. Come sit over here, sweetheart," the man says, going towards a chair. I look at Dean with a terrified expression.

"Is it alright if I stay next to her? First tattoo, and she's a little antsy," Dean explains. The tattoo artist shrugs, and says that Dean'll have to sit on the floor. I sit on the wooden chair that reminds me an awful lot of the blood soaked chair from earlier. Dean's on the ground and he's almost as tall as I am.

The tattoo artist asks where I want the tattoo, and I say on my shoulder. I take off my leather jacket and roll up my left sleeve. "If it hurts, you can squeeze my hand. Just try not to break it, okay?" Dean asks, giving me a smile. I nod and take the hand he held out for me.

The thing I hated most about getting that tattoo was the noise. The pain wasn't even that bad. The noise could have driven me into insanity. The only reason why I squeezed Dean's hand so hard was because of the goddamned noise. "It doesn't hurt, Dean. The _noise_," I say to him over and over again. It takes me ten times to get him to believe me.

I feel strange for not crying. Not because of the pain in my arm, but for what just happened a couple hours ago. I saw my parents murdered right in front of my eyes. According to all the movies and TV I've ever seen, I should be bawling my eyes out right now. But for some reason, all I can think about is that noise of the tattoo machine. I love my whole family, well, I suppose it's loved now. So why am I not crying?

I don't bring it up to Dean, mostly because I barely know him. I don't know why I trust this man so much-he could be a serial killer and I wouldn't know. I mean, he saved my life and all, but he killed the things that were trying to kill me. Wouldn't that make him a murderer?

Then I remember that those things weren't people. _Demons_. Who even believed in demons? The closest thing anyone believed in were ghosts. Demons? How is it possible that my family was slaughtered by things that only exist in horror stories? I decide to push the whole demon thing into the back of my mind, because too much is going on right now.

I look at the finished product on my arm. It hurts a little, but it feels like a pin prick in comparison to my earlier experience with things going into my flesh. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" Dean says when we walk back to his car-a really awesome '67 chevy impala. The only reason why I know what it's called is because Dean won't shut up about his precious car. When we're walking, I'm pretty sure I hear him call it baby several times.

"I think I understand why you don't have a girlfriend," I say just before I get in the car. Dean looks at me, intrigued that I've got it all figured out. "You're too much in love with your car to have a real relationship," I say.

Dean laughs. "You know, Skylar, you're a pretty cool kid," he says. It feels nice to hear something like that. I'm happy because I know that this man, the man who's going to take care of me and quite possibly become my new family, is a really awesome person.

Sam is awake when I come in the car. "Why are we here? Shouldn't we be moving?" he asks Dean.

"She needed an anti possession symbol," Dean says, shrugging.

Sam's eyes widen. "You can't give an eleven year old a tattoo!" he exclaims.

"Sure you can. Show him your tattoo, sweetie," Dean says to me. I show Sam my shoulder, and he groans. "Sam, she needs to be protected against demons. Would you like it if Crowley possessed her?" Dean asks.

"Okay, I see your point. Still, she's _eleven_. It just seems wrong," Sam says. Dean shrugs. "Skylar, why don't you get some sleep? It's been a long day. Dean, you really should sleep, too. I can drive," Sam says. Dean doesn't argue and switches seats with the moose.

I put my head down on my brother's old soccer bag and try to sleep. I'm exhausted, but I can't stop thinking about where my life is heading. Will I even continue school? I'm in sixth grade at the moment, and I'd really begun to love Pre Algebra, which is strange, but true. I love finding the value of x-it makes so much sense.

About half an hour after I try to go to sleep, I'm still awake. Sam starts talking to Dean "How is she not falling apart? Most kids would be bawling their eyes out right now," he says.

"Maybe we shouldn't talk about that until we're sure she's asleep," Dean objects.

Sam looks over his shoulder at me quickly. "Nah, she's fast asleep," he says. Idjits…

"Skylar's a tough kid. I don't know how she's keeping it all in, though. If I saw my whole family slaughtered, I would lose it. She lost her brother, man," Dean says. You can tell that Dean really sympathizes.

"You sold your soul to bring me back, remember? Do you ever think it would be better if you just let me die? You wouldn't have had to be in hell for four months," Sam says.

"You're my brother, Sammy. I don't regret anything. Besides, you were in Lucifer's cage for over a year to save the world." I don't understand what that means, but I keep listening anyway.

"Dean, I was the reason the apocalypse started. If I hadn't killed Lilith, you wouldn't have had soulless Sam and you wouldn't have had to get me out of Hell. You wouldn't have had to make a deal with Death, and none of that crap would have happened. I wouldn't have been in the psychiatric ward of a hospital if Lucifer wasn't in my head. It was all my fault," Sam says.

"I'm not going to argue with you, because it's pointless, so let's bring the conversation back to Skylar. What do you think's gonna happen with her?" Dean asks.

"I think that she'll eventually break down. She can't hold it in forever, Dean," Sam says, which I reason is most likely true.

"I'll be there for her when the wall does come down. She needs someone, especially now," Dean says. I feel really touched by this. But I keep asking myself why this man is being so kind to me.

Sam apparently thinks the same thing I do. "Why are you being so kind to her, Dean? She's a complete stranger," he says.

"We didn't get there fast enough to save her family. If we had got there, just half an hour earlier, she might still have her parents. It's our fault that she has nothing," Dean says.

"You can't blame yourself," I say. They turn around really quickly. "It's not your fault," I say.

"Good job making sure she's asleep, Sammy," Dean says angrily. "Go back to sleep, Skylar," he tells me.

I sit up. "No, Dean. It's not your fault that my parents are dead. If you hadn't come, I would be dead. You can't blame yourself for not saving enough people. Be happy that you saved at least one person," I say. I wasn't angry at Dean at all. I didn't blame him one bit, because it truly wasn't his fault. Most people would just leave situations alone and let everyone die before risking their own lives. He saved my life, and so what he couldn't save my family's life? It's not like it's his fault. Besides, he's making up with it by taking care of me.

"Skylar, your parents could still be alive if we arrived just half an hour earlier. Doesn't that mean anything?" Dean asks me.

I hate thinking about that, but I do, and I know there's nothing that can be done about it now. "You can't change the past, so don't dwell on it. The only thing you can do anything about is my future, so don't leave me on the corner of the street or anything."

"Are you sure you're eleven? You seem so much older than that," Dean says.

I shrug, "I've read a lot of books, and the last couple hours have changed me quite a lot. I don't feel eleven, though. That's for sure," I say.

Dean is silent for a long time. When he finally speaks, he says, "Skylar, you should really sleep." I know he's not going to say anymore, so I lay my head down on the duffle bag and try to sleep. After about fifteen minutes, I am asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean is shaking me awake a couple hours later. It's light out, so it must be morning. "What time is it?" I ask him.

"Almost eight. Come on, breakfast," he says. I pull on my jacket and get out of the car. We are at a diner, in what appears to be the middle of nowhere.

We walk inside, where Sam is already talking to the hostess. She waves us over and seats us in a booth. I sit on the inside of the booth, next to Dean. The restaurant is fairly crowded, as it should have been at that time in the morning. I look at the menu and nothing really sounds appealing, which surprises me. I remember liking pancakes, so I decide on that.

We order our food, and when the waitress leaves, I ask them, "Can you guys please explain to me this whole weird world? I had no clue demons even existed until yesterday."

"We'll explain everything to you once we get to the bunker," Sam says before Dean can say anything. I look at him, inspecting. "What?" he asks me.

"Do you have any nicknames?" I ask him. He looks at me really confused. "Moose, for example?" The brothers look at me like I just said something as crazy as 'Lucifer is currently possessing you.'

"Crowley?" Sam asks me. I'm really confused at the moment, and have no real clue what to say. Sam takes out a flask in his jacket and throws some of the contents at me, getting me really wet. I wipe the water off of my face. "Okay, not Crowley," Sam murmurs.

"What was that about? And what do I have on my face?" I ask them.

Dean gets a napkin and starts wiping my face, a gesture I find rather odd. "Sorry, that's holy water. We thought you were Crowley, this demon we know. He's the only one who calls Sam 'moose,'" he explains. He puts the napkin down, and my face is all dry.

"Well, I can see why he calls Sam that. He is clearly a moose. But you guys seriously thought I was a demon just because I called him that?" I ask the two brothers.

"Sorry. We can never be too careful. It would also explain why you haven't cried yet," Sam says. I look at him venomously.

"Sam, be a little more sensitive," Dean says. I am silently thankful for Dean. I would probably be on the streets or something it it wasn't for him. I have no clue what they would have done if Dean didn't decide to take me in.

I keep giving Sam that stare until he apologizes. "Sorry, Skylar. You're right, I should be more sensitive. You just lost your family." The food comes before I can say anything else. My pancakes are covered in whipped cream and chocolate chips. I know I like chocolate, so I start eating. Before I can finish my first pancake, Sam directs my attention to the television behind me. There's an important national news story on it. _The tragic ending to a terrible story_, is the headline.

_Five bodies were discovered this morning inside the home of the Russell family in Indiana. The bodies match the profile of forty year olds Jeremy and Clarissa Russell, as well as their thirteen year old son, Zack, and two accountants from Delaware. Previously this month, every single one of the relatives of the Russell family, were murdered brutally. People are claiming that at every one of the murder scenes, the two dead accountants were spotted just minutes before the deaths. This leads the police to believe that the accountants were, in fact, the murderers. The question is, who killed the murderers?_

_ What's even more intriguing is that Jeremy and Clarissa Russell's daughter, Skylar, _a picture of me from first grade flashes on the screen, _was no where to be found. Police are still investigating this possible disappearance. There are many theories as far to Skylar's disappearance. Some believe that she was killed as well, and her body was thrown in the fire place in the Russell's house. Others think that the people who killed the murderers currently have her. The police have released that the most likely scenario is that she is dead, and that she will never be seen again._

_ So where is Skylar Russell? Who killed the murderers? If Skylar is alive, is she safe? Why did the murderers target that one particular family? Who is going to take care of the funerals? And, are the killers of the accountants dangerous? _

I can't watch anymore. "They had to show a picture of me when I was six," I grumble. I was adorable then, I'll admit. Still, I prefer people being current with the news.

I don't eat anymore of my pancakes, because I've lost my appetite. Seeing pictures of my dead family on screen and having some news reporter lady talk about them like they don't matter makes my stomach churn. "If you aren't going to eat, can I have those?" Dean asks. I push my plate over to him.

"You okay, Skylar?" Sam asks me. For once, he's being nice to me. Surprising…

"No, of course not," I say, but tears still stay in. I put my head in my arms on the table. I sit up a couple seconds later. "Can we go?" I ask them. Dean shoves the last few bites of pancake in his mouth and leaves a pile of cash on the table. We head back to the impala and drive the last hundred miles to the bunker.


	4. Chapter 4

We park the impala a couple miles down the road from the bunker. I don't see how we could get any farther into the middler of nowhere, but there's still three miles to walk. Dean carries my bag, which I really appreciate. I don't want to admit it, but I hate walking long distances. Sam and Dean are both six feet tall, and they can walk really fast. I practically have to run to keep up with them.

About half an hour later, we are at the entrance to what looks like a bomb shelter in the middle of the woods. Dean opens the door and says, "Welcome to your new home."

I walk in and take a look around. Well, one thing's for sure, it's a lot bigger than it looks on the outside. I look around, and I can see halls leading to endless rooms. Dean hands me my bag. "There are a few bedrooms. Pick one you like," he says.

I wander around the bunker, which seems more like a smaller version of the Institute from _The Mortal Instruments_ series crammed into the back of the woods. It's huge, that's for sure. I peer into a few bedrooms; two of them are taken. I eventually decide on the one right next to the one that later turns out to be Dean's. I put the duffel bag down on my bed, which has simple grey bedding. There is a small closet, and a large wooden wardrobe. Connecting to my small bedroom, there is a bathroom, with a nice looking shower.

I start putting my brother's clothes into the wardrobe and closet. I fold the two pairs of jeans that I brought and put them in one drawer. It feels so empty, so I add my five t-shirts to another drawer. I hang my jacket in the closet. I realize that those are my only possessions, and that's what breaks me. Not the news story, not getting a tattoo (god, I had a tattoo), but realizing how little I had.

I start off with a few tears trickling down my face, and that soon turns into a flood of water coming down my face, and that soon turns into sobbing. I lie on my bed and start sobbing into the thin pillow. The image of my parents dying, and my brothers screams play over and over again in my head. The men with the black eyes and how soulless they were.

I realize something, too. My brother gave up his life so that they might not find me. The black eyed men heard me sob, and knew immediately that someone else was there. My brother knew that I would die if they didn't find someone to kill. So he gave himself up and bought me a little extra time, which saved my life. That makes me feel so touched, but it makes me mourn my selfless brother even more.

I don't notice it, but Dean stands at the doorway. He's debating whether or not to come in. He heard me crying from his bedroom, and doesn't know what to do. He decides to try and be there for me, and comes in the door. I feel the bed go down underneath his weight. "Skylar," he starts to say, but he doesn't really know how to continue. I don't turn around, and keep crying into my pillow. "Listen, I know I'm just a stranger to you right now, and that I have no clue what your family was like, and that I'll never ever be anything close to what they were to you, but I want you to know that I'm here for you," he says.

I look up and see Dean's concerned face. I can tell from the look he's giving me that he truly understands loss. "My brother gave up himself so I could have more time. He sacrificed himself so I could have a shot," I say, my lower lip trembling.

"Your brother sounds really great," Dean says, still unsure what to say. Before I know what I'm doing, I wrap my arms around Dean and start crying on his chest. Dean is surprised at first, and so am I, but he's all I have. He puts his arms around me and starts murmuring comforting words to me, although he's not even sure what he's saying.

About an hour later, Skylar's all cried out, and my shirt is soaked in her tears. I put her to bed, which is something I haven't done since Ben. I make sure she's fast asleep before I leave, and I can actually tell, unlike Sam. I knew that I needed to make sure she was alright before I left.

I close the door quietly as I leave the room. Sam is standing outside the door when I come out. I put my fingers to my lips for him to be quiet. We walk to one of the many rooms, and Sam starts talking. "I told you she'd have a breaking point," he says.

"I know," I say, shrugging. I sit down on the red leather couch. "I told you I'd be there for her when she hit it," I say.

Sam seems dazzled. (love that word. it makes Sam sound like a fairy princess) "You really did take care of that well, I'll admit. She definitely trusts you already, which is pretty impressive," he says.

"She needs someone right now. I think that she realized that I would be there for her, which is why she trusts me so much." Sam doesn't seem to think it makes much sense, but I can't care less right now. I feel so bad for that little girl who chose me to be her friend when her world came crumbling down. "Sammy, go a little easier on her. She's scared, and she could use all the help she can get," I say.

Sam looks at me, objecting. "I haven't done anything, Dean! I mean, I'm not exactly trying to be her best friend or anything, like you, but I haven't done anything," he says.

"No, you've been rude to her since the second we saved her and realized she has nothing." Sam rolls his eyes. "No, I'm serious, Sammy! She's just a scared little girl, man. She has no family, and if she did, they would all most likely be dead within the next few days. We can't just treat her like any other victim of a demon killing. She's our responsibility now and the least you can do is be a little nicer to her."

"I'm not taking care of her. It was your dumb idea to bring her here in the first place," Sam warns me.

I scoff. "Sam, where else would she go? She has no family, and demons are probably after her right now. We can't exactly leave her in an orphanage to rot," I say.

"Dean, we killed the demons that were after her. She would be perfectly safe in an orphanage, much safer than she is here. Everyone who we take in ends up dead, and you don't want to have Skylar die, do you?" Sam asks me.

"That's not going to happen, not to her. I'm going to protect her to the ends of the earth if I have to. She's going to be safe here, Sam. And, there's never just a couple demons who are after a family the size of hers. They slaughtered every living relative. There has to be a reason."

Sam doesn't deny the last part, and ignores it for the most part. "Why do you care so much about her? Does she remind you of Ben or something?" Sam asks.

He crossed a line. But, I keep myself calm. I can't get angry about that. It's been a long time since the whole thing with Ben, and I have to let it go. "Of course not. But she's our chance to have a family, Sam. You and I both have always wanted kids, and now we have one."

"She's not ours, Dean. You really think she's going to love us even close to how much she loved her real parents? Do you think we can love her the way we'd love a child who's our own?" Sam asks, and I can't deny he has one good point.

"Honestly, I think that if we try, we can love her just as much as any child. I know that she's not going to love us as much as her real parents, but if we're there for her when she needs us, she'll start. That's all we can ask for," I say.

"Dean, you think she's going to ever call you Dad? You're not her father, you're just some guy who saved her life and offered her a home after she saw her family slaughtered."

"At least I'm a hell of a lot nicer to her than you are. The only way we're going to get her to trust us is by making sure we're not complete dick bags to her. So far you haven't done anything to help your case," I say to him.

"I'm not going to be able to love her like my own child, Dean. If you can, then great. But she's not mine, and she's practically grown up already," Sam says.

I sigh. "I'm not asking you to love her like she's your daughter. Hell, you don't even have to love her like a niece if you don't want to. JUST BE FUCKING NICE TO HER." I scare him a little, which is kind of the point. As soon as I realize I yelled, I feel really bad. Not because I yelled at Sam, but because there is a chance I woke up Skylar. "Damn it," I murmur. I listen in her direction, and realize that I didn't wake her up. I calm down, and turn to Sammy.

"I'm gonna to go to bed," Sam says and leaves the room before I have time to say anything. I am left to my thoughts, and I think about how stupid I've been. I don't know how to take care of a girl, especially one who is going to be a teenager very soon. What am I thinking? It's not like she's going to love me the way she loved her father. I know that I never can never match her old family, especially when I have Sam acting like an asshole.

Still, I have a little glimmer of hope that somehow, this little girl will become my family. It's so stupid for me to think that, but I can't stop myself from hoping. I mean, I'm going to be living with her for the rest of my life, unless she runs away or something. There is one thing I am sure of-I am _not_ going to let her end up like the rest of the people I've loved. She is going to be safe-I don't care if I have to go to the ends of the earth to make sure that happens. I owe it to her, and to her brother.


	5. Chapter 5

I wake up the next morning with no memory of the past few days. As you can imagine, when I realize I am in a strange place, I freak out a little. It takes a while for the memories to come back. When they do, I have a hard time keeping myself from crying. But I make sure that I don't. I can't. As much as I want to, I can't. Dean, I feel, truly is concerned for me, and I can't make him go through being worried again.

I know it's going to take a while for me to adjust to everything, the main thing being my family's death. They're gone, and I can't bring them back. I still can barely believe what I saw less than 36 hours ago. Besides the fact that they're gone, I can't believe that my brother gave himself up so I could have longer. I mean, he'd always been my older brother and I loved him, but I never knew that he was so selfless and brave. He must have known that we were going to die, and he could have run away and left me there. Instead, he got his death over with longer, and it saved my life. I don't understand how he could be so selfless. My parents being selfless is something I can understand, because they were my parents. But Zack? It's hard to believe.

And then there's the fact that I'm living in a bunker in the middle of nowhere Kansas. Kansas itself is, in my opinion, the middle of nowhere. I'm probably never going to go to school ever again. I'm probably never even going to interact with anyone my own age again. I am even starting to believe that I'll never even go outside again. If I do, where do I go? There's nothing around for miles.

And then there were Dean and Sam. Dean, I know immediately, will be my friend. I know that I will grow to trust him and love him. It seems almost impossible right now, but Dean has made it clear that he truly cares about me, and I really want to love someone. I need someone to fill up the aching gap that was ripped out by those demons, even if it's only filled up a little. Dean barely knows me, and yet he still cares about me. He's giving me a home, and I know I'm safe here.

Sam the moose is someone I'm not quite sure about. So far he's been nothing but rude to me, and I know that I probably won't really end up liking him. I don't see what his problem is with me. I didn't do anything to him. But, at the same time, I can understand that he's not very happy to have this huge change put on him. Maybe, I think, he'll warm up to me as he gets used to me being around.

And then there's the whole tattoo situation. I prod it with my finger, and it's sore. The symbol on my shoulder looks like one of those symbols satanists would have. I know that I have it on for protection, but I don't see how a simple symbol can protect me from anything, especially something as powerful as demon possession. The only reason why I believed that demons could possess people is because that news reporter lady said that the two men who killed my parents and brother were accountants from Delaware.

I decide that there's no point in staying in bed. The only people who can give me any answers to the thousands of questions in my head are Dean and Sam. I just hope that they're up. So, I get up and run my fingers through my now short hair. (that would also take some time to get used to) I don't put on anything different, because I figure that I have so little, and I should be able to make a set of clothes at least for a couple days.

I walk down the hall. The white marble floor is cold against my feet, but I don't mind. The cold helps wake me up, somehow. I find Sam and Dean in the kitchen. Dean is already making what looks like scrambled eggs. He adds a bucket load of cheese to the mix, just like my dad used to do. I smile. "Morning Skylar," he says. "You hungry?"

I shake my head, because I figure that there is no way I can be hungry after everything that happened. Then, my stomach betrays me and lets out a large growl. Dean laughs, and my face turns a little red. "I'll take that as a yes," he says. He gestures for me to sit down at the big polished wooden table.

The chair I sit down in is surprisingly comfortable, but I feel really strange sitting there. This entire building feels strange to me. I decide that it's just because it's unfamiliar. I'm sitting next to Sam, who's on a laptop looking for something. "Whacha looking at?" I ask him, and I try to look at whatever is on the computer screen. Sam gives me a menacing look. "Sorry, I'm just curious," I murmur.

"Sam, I told you to be nice," Dean says from the stove. He plates the eggs and gives me a plate with a good amount of food on it, and he gives Sam the plate with a towering amount. Dean's plate is somewhere in the middle. He goes to a drawer in the kitchen and gets a fork for each of us. He sits across from Sam and me. "How'd you sleep?" Dean asks me.

"Surprisingly, great," I say. I take a forkful of the food and plop it into my mouth. I have to admit, Dean's a better cook than either of my parents. Both of my parents always either burned or undercooked everything. These ones are cooked perfectly. "These are really good," I say.

Dean smiles. "Thanks," he says. He turns to Sam, who is intensely involved in whatever he's looking at. "Got a case?" Dean asks.

Sam shrugs. "I'm not sure if this is our thing, but there's this one guy that people are swearing was killed by a werewolf," he says.

"It's probably just a rabid dog or something. Anything else?" Dean asks, shoving a forkful into his mouth.

"Possible vampire attack, but I think we should leave it to someone else. Seems like it's at most one or two. That should be really easy."

As you can imagine, I am starting to freak out. I try to hide it, but, until the night before last, I thought that the world was, well, normal. As normal as it could be, anyway. There was all the evil and stuff that the world was expected to have. What I mean is that I had no clue that the supernatural existed until the night before last.

Sam looks over my way and studies my face for a few seconds, and then laughs. "I think we owe her an explanation," Dean says. I give them a look that says 'well, you think?' "What do you want to know?" he asks me.

"Everything," I say simply.

Sam and Dean are impressed with my answer, and nod. "Almost everything you've ever heard about is real. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, fairies, you name it. Almost all of them are pretty dang evil, even fairies. Even angels aren't rainbows and unicorns." I find it odd when Dean says the words 'rainbows and unicorns.' It's like a really macho biker dude saying 'pretty little pony.' I nod and tell them to continue. "We go around the country saving people from these things. We have been since we were kids. People like us are called hunters. In order to investigate the scenes before ganking the sons of bitches, we fake being FBI agents. As you know, that's illegal, but we save people's lives. We try to never save the same town more than once, as there are complications that come with that kind of fraud."

The brothers look at me, waiting for questions. "So where are we? What is this place?" I ask them.

I think they were expecting a little more than that. "This is the bunker of the now almost extinct society called the Men of Letters. They are sort of like hunters, except they do a lot more studying and less killing things. This place is warded against any demons or other supernatural things. You are completely safe in here."

"Then what happened to Kevin Tran?" I ask them. They look at me like I've unravelled some great secret, and they look more freaked out than I am. "That computer has a label on it that says 'property of Kevin Tran,'" I explain. They relax. "Since he's not here, and because of the look of sadness I see, something must have happened to him."

"Dean trusted an angel," Sam simply states. Dean, I can tell, feels guilty about it. There's a bit of self loathing in his eyes.

"It's not your fault, Dean," I say immediately. Dean rolls his eyes. "No, I'm serious. You always think you can trust angels because, well, they're angels. They're supposed to be good. You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened, because it's going to eat away at you until you have nothing left. Let it go, as a certain song once said," I say. Dean doesn't understand the reference I made, but he smiles weakly. "I can tell you're a good person, Dean. You would never intentionally bring evil to someone." I almost reach out my hand to squeeze his, but I refrain from it.

"I am convinced that you're not eleven. You're some twenty nine year old possessing a kid," Dean grumbles, and I smile at that.

"I'd have to be almost three times the age I am to be that old. Actually, it would be 2 and 7/11s which would be approximately 2 point 777777777777777777 well you get the gist. 2 point lots of sevens." Dean looks at me like I'm crazy, which I have decided that I probably am. I just give him a big smile.

"You know, Dean, some people actually like math. Can't see how, but I still had to go through calculus in order to even get a shot at law school," Sam says.

"Oh, you were going to be a lawyer?" I ask Sam, disapproval in my voice.

"What's wrong with lawyers?" Sam asks defensively.

"Both of my parents were doctors. As you can imagine, I don't have the highest opinion of lawyers," I say. Sorry for those of you who don't know the on going sort of dispute between doctors and lawyers. Basically, lawyers and doctors hate each other and have a very low opinion of each other. As far as I can tell, the doctors' hatred is stronger.

Dean is just sitting across from us, smiling. I can tell he's enjoying this, and I'm not entirely sure if I find that funny or not. "See, Sammy? You did good dropping out of law school," Dean says when he realizes that we are both looking at him.

"Yeah, believe me, you don't want to become one of those lawyer douches," I say. Dean laughs at that, which makes me smile.

"You see, Sam? This kid is _awesome_," Dean says, pointing at me. I can't help but feeling a little warmed. "You have any other questions?" Dean asks me.

"Several, actually. First of all, there's the whole thing with that angel who saved me. Cas was his name, right?" I ask them. Dean nods. "Can you explain that?" I ask them.

Dean rolls his head up to the ceiling, thinking. "Cas is like family to us. We've been through a lot with him, me more than Sam. I freaking went to purgatory with him. He's a little strange if you haven't realized."

I nod, and ask my next question. "What's your favorite color?" Dean and Sam are a little baffled by my question. "Well, I figure if you guys are going to take care of me, I might as well know a few things about you," I reason.

"Okay. Only if you answer every question yourself," Dean says. I shrug, and Dean answers. "Dark green, I guess," he says.

I eye Sam, silently asking him to answer. "Red. I don't know," he says.

"Okay, cool. Mines deep blue, like the TARDIS," I say. I think they're trying not to ask what I'm talking about, and act like they know exactly what I mean. But they aren't great actors, and I see right through them to the confusion. "It's from Doctor Who. Come on, you've never heard of that show? It's been around since the sixties." Their faces are blanker than my science homework the day it's due. "Okay, whatever. I'll make sure to show you guys an episode. It's my favorite TV show of all time," I say.

I spend the rest of the morning with these guys, asking questions. Eventually it turns into an epic game of 'would you rather.' As the morning goes on, I start warming up a little bit more to Sam. Dean, as I already knew, will be my friend. The morning's questions just confirm that. By lunch time, I feel a real bond with Dean, and, despite everything, I know that I'm gonna be okay.


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the day, Sam and Dean put me in front of the television, which has no on demand or anything good on it. It doesn't even have a guide, so I have to flip through channels to find shows I want to watch. I accidentally stumble upon something that's, well, kind of strange. I'll just put it that way. "Dean? What is this?" I ask, really freaked out when I realize what I'm watching.

Dean looks over at the television. His eyes bug out when he realizes what it is, and then runs over and flips the channel switch, changing it to something else. "That was nothing," he says, although his face tells a completely different story. He goes back to the table, where he and Sam are doing research. "If her dad were alive, he'd kill us for that," Dean murmurs to Sam. I wouldn't have heard it if I wasn't listening.

"No kidding, Dean. Although, how old were _you_ when you saw porn for the first time?" Sam asks, under his breath.

"I was at least thirteen, man. Not that Dad really cared," Dean murmurs.

"You do know I can hear you guys, right?" I ask, a little bit louder than normal talking.

I turn around, and Dean is looking at me with an annoyed expression on his face. "Watch TV, Skylar." He goes back to Sam, and murmurs, "We are so dead."

"Hey, Dean, I found something." The way Sam says it, it's like he struck gold. "It's about four hours away. If we leave now, we can get there by tonight and we can start investigating in the morning."

Dean gets excited, and then he looks over at me. "What are we going to do with her? We can't exactly leave her here." Sam gives him a look that basically says 'why not?' "Because, Sammy, she's just a kid. Do you think you can handle this case on your own?" Dean asks his brother.

"I guess. But why do you have to stay here with her?" Sam asks.

Before Dean can respond, I say something. "How long would you guys be gone?" I ask them.

"Three days, maybe a little more," Sam says.

"You guys can leave me here. I'll be fine," I say. Of course, I don't really mean it. I'm just trying to be nice to them because, well, they saved my life. Also, I was ruining their lives enough by just being there, so they deserved to be able to go off for a few days.

Sam looks at Dean, trying to convince him that he should go. "No, Sammy. I'm staying. Skylar, it's nice of you to be so easy going about that, but I'm staying here. Your family's dead, and you just got stuck with a couple of complete strangers. The least I can do is make sure that I don't leave you a day after you get here," Dean says.

I look down at the ground. I don't like being reminded about my family being slaughtered in front of my eyes. As you can imagine, it was not my most pleasant experience. "I'm sorry. I should be more sensitive. I saw my parents die, too," Dean says, and there is true sympathy in his voice. Also, a little bit of self loathing and guilt is mixed in there, as well.

I can't help but asking something that might appear very insensitive. "Did they die like my parents?" I ask. Okay, not that insensitive.

"Not in the exact same way, but the gist is the same. Demons killed both my parents," Dean says. I nod, and ask how old he was when it happened. "My mom died when I was four. My dad died just a couple years ago."

"I'm sorry," I say. I'm mostly directing this at Dean, even though I know that Sam went through the same crap. Dean feels like he's truly guilty, and Sam's just standing there, staring into empty space. I don't ask if there is another side to the story, because I don't want to go over any lines.

Dean helps Sam pack for the trip. Just before he leaves, I say goodbye to him, and he just gives me this really mean look. I'm just like 'what did I do?' and I'm really confused why he's being so mean to me. "Why do you hate me so much?" I ask him.

At first, I don't think Sam's going to respond. He's giving me that really mean and pissed off look. Then, he says the weirdest thing. "I think that you're going to end up making Dean make some really stupid choices. He gets attached to kids way too easily, and then they cloud his judgement. He's already said that he will make sure that absolutely nothing happens to you. He is going to make some crap choices just because you're around."

I'm not entirely sure what to think. "You see, Sam, there's a difference between you and your brother. You will make sure that a victim is taken care of, to the extent of pawning them off on someone who you think is responsible. Dean takes responsibility. I don't want him to make any crap decisions, but I get that he wants to protect me. From what I understand so far, you've both seen a lot of death. If Dean can somehow make sure that he gives someone a life better than death, and make sure they're protected, he'll feel like all the death he's seen is over powered by one little amazing accomplishment." Honestly, I have no clue what I'm saying, and even if this makes any sense. So, I apologize.

"People who get close to us end up dead, or worse. And usually, it's because neither Dean or I can keep ourselves from being involved. I'm not making that mistake again, and I don't want Dean to make that mistake, either," Sam says.

Before I can say anything else, Sam leaves. He starts running in the direction of the car. I don't know what to think about what he said. In some strange way, he was almost saying that the reason he didn't like me was because he wanted to keep me alive, which could almost mean that he cared about me. In another sense, though, he was saying that I would bring Dean to make stupid choices. One thing is for sure-I had not even scratched the surface of Sam whatever his last name is. Damn, I don't even know his last name. Why didn't I ask that when we were doing that questionnaire thing? I'm living with these men, but I don't even know their last name. Something is seriously wrong with me.


	7. Chapter 7

You never realize how boring four hour car rides are until you don't have anyone to talk to. I'd experienced this terrible sensation the several times that Dean had died, and I honestly despise it. Also there was the time that I became soulless, which was really strange. Bits of that time are still coming back to me, and I can't help but wonder if I will ever fully remember my time. I was in two places at once, so it was, let's just say, a rather interesting experience. Of course, one of those places was Lucifer's cage.

Anyway, I get to the town where the possible demon attack occurred. Demons kept attacking these poor people, and it was so terrible. This time, no matter what, I would make sure that Skylar did not have a brother or sister to play with. I would make sure they were safe, but I would not take it upon myself to adopt them. It was the stupidest thing I could possibly do.

I get a motel room in town, and start digging up as much research I can about the town as I possibly can before going to sleep. I don't find anything that I'm not expecting, so I go to sleep rather quickly.

The next morning, I go on a jog before heading out to investigate. It's early, so very few people are out. When I come back, I shower and then put on my suit and tie and leave the motel.

I get to the crime scene about ten minutes later. Guess who was there already? You got it-Garth. "Sam, my man!" he says when he sees me and gives me a hug. I don't have enough time to do anything, so I'm just smooshed by Garth's arms. "Hey, I hate to break it to you, but there's no case here. Just a couple psycho teenagers. I already checked them out-no demonic possession. Sometimes people are just crazy," he says.

"Are you sure?" I ask him.

"Yes, I'm positive. Sometimes, people are just bad." Garth holds such sadness in his voice, it's almost crippling. "Sorry you came all this way for nothing, Sam," he says.

Truthfully, I'm not upset. I needed to get out of the bunker, and away from Skylar. "It's not a big deal," I say.

"Hey, before you head back, wanna have lunch?" Garth asks. I know that I don't really have a choice in the matter, because Garth is going to make me, so I say that I would.

We head to a diner a couple miles away. "So, Sammy, how's life been?" he asks me when we get our food. I shrug. "Come on, Sam. I know there's more than that," he says, urging me on and giving me a smile.

"Our latest case had a few complications," is all I say. Garth looks at me with werewolf puppy dog eyes that freak me out more than anything. "It was that demon killing of the whole Russell family bloodline," I explain.

"Oh yeah, I heard about that. It's terrible. Children died, and that Skylar girl is missing. What do you think happened to her?" Garth asks me. I look down at my plate of salad. "Tell me more," he says with a smile.

"She had no family, and we barely saved her. Dean, being the idiot that he is, decided that we should adopt her. He's at the bunker right now with her. I was looking for an excuse to get out of there," I say.

Garth looks really confused. "Why would you want to leave? You have a chance at a family, even if it is some girl you just saved," he says.

"Dean gets too attached to kids, and it forces him to make stupid choices. We don't need this," I say and take a bite of the salad I have decided to order. The dressing on it's disgusting, but I continue eating.

"I'm guessing you haven't been the nicest to the girl," Garth says. I shrug. "Sam, she's just a little girl! She's frightened out of her mind! Her family just died and the least you can do is try being nice to her! Be there for her and she might grow to like you. You might grow to like her, even!" Garth practically yells at me, just like Dean.

"Garth, calm down. I'm just concerned for my brother," I say.

"No, you're concerned for yourself. Be a little selfless and be nice to the kid. She deserves all the help she can get. How do you think she feels? She saw her whole family die. The least you can do is not be a douche," Garth says.

Honestly, I'm not surprised that he's taking Dean's side on this. He's the same exact way as Dean. Always rooting for the underdog, but I still don't see why I can't have my own thoughts. Why do I have to push everything that I'm feeling aside for one little girl who is ruining my life? Garth takes a bite of his extra rare steak. "How the hell do you eat that?" I ask him.

He shrugs, and says, "Listen, Sam. I know you think she's going to ruin your life and all. But she might do the exact opposite. Have you ever considered that she might make your life better?"

"She's only going to bring Dean more sadness. Something is bound to happen to her, because something always happens to the people who get close to us," I say.

"If you keep her safe, Sam, nothing is going to happen to her," Garth says. I snort, because he's making it sound so easy. "Being nice to her is the first step to keeping her safe."

"Even if we do manage to keep her safe, she's going to grow up a hunter. I don't want that life for her. She should have grown up like a normal person, go to college, have a career, get married at 26 or whenever, have three kids, worry about retirement. Hunters never have a pleasant life, and it's always short. Way too short," I say.

"She might choose to get out of hunting when she's older. She may not want this life," Garth reasons.

"Even if that is the case, Dean and I probably won't be there for her when she's an adult. We are going to die, sooner rather than later, and this time it might actually be permanent," I say. It's crazy how many times I've died, and come back. It doesn't make sense that a person can die so many times.

"That means that you have to give her your all every day. Just be there for her, Sam. You don't have to be her father or anything. Just be like her uncle or something," Garth says.

"She calls me Moose," I say, looking down at the plate of very disgusting vegetables.

Garth starts laughing. "Does she now? I'm starting to like her already," he says.

"Wait, you think I'm a moose?" I ask him.

"Dude, _everyone_ thinks you're a moose. Most people just don't have the nerve to say it to your face," Garth says, laughing. I feel really offended, but I have to admit that I do look somewhat like a moose.

I finish up my lunch with Garth, and promise that he can see Skylar once she gets settled into the new life. I also promise that I'll try to be a little bit easier on her. Garth, of course, gives me a hug before I go. I head out on the open road, and debate what I'm going to say to Dean when I get back.


	8. Guns or Bows

When Sam leaves, I go back inside with Dean. "So, kid, what do you want to do?" he asks. I shrug. "How about I teach you how to defend yourself?" he suggests.

"You mean with weapons and stuff?" I ask him.

Dean shrugs. "Well, yeah. You should know how to fight, don't you think?" he asks me.

"You do know how dangerous that sounds, right?" I ask him, skeptically. Dean shrugs. "Are you crazy or something?" I ask. He uses his fingers to show a little, and I smile. "I like you, Dean," I say.

Dean leads me down to this giant weapon room with a bunch of practice areas. There are mats for wrestling, targets for shooting and knife throwing, basically anything a hunter needed. "Pick out a weapon, try not to kill yourself, and I'll teach you how to use it." I look around until I find what I want. I pick up a black bow with silver arrows. "Okay, I have no idea how to use that," Dean says.

I go over to a target with the bow and a couple arrows. I put on on the bow and I shoot it. I just miss my target-the heart. I am less than three inches away from where I wanted to be. "Wow, so you know," Dean says, impressed.

I shrug. "Once The Hunger Games came into theaters, I became obsessed with archery. I've gotten pretty good, I'd say."

"Yeah, with a little more practice, you could be lethal with that thing. But don't you think you'd rather use a gun?" he asks me.

"No," is my immediate response. Dean looks at me, confused, so I explain a little further. "With guns, you have no control over how fast it goes. A bullet goes one speed only. If you have no intention of killing, an arrow is better. Also, they can go just as fast. There's also the whole cost issue. In order to kill a werewolf, you need silver bullets. You know how expensive those are? If you have arrows, you can easily reuse the silver."

"I suppose that makes a little sense, but a bow and arrow are so much bulkier. You can't exactly hide a bow in your pocket," Dean says.

"Yes, that is true. But, people are always expecting you to have a gun. They always try to spot it on you. Pulling out a bow from your backpack or something might just stun a person enough that they will slow down a little bit. They also don't ever expect so much power from a bow," I say.

We spend the next ten minutes talking about bows versus guns. I had a very compelling case, but so did Dean. Eventually we decided that I would learn how to use a gun, but that I would be allowed to use the bow. Dean actually did want to learn how to use one, just in case of an emergency that he didn't have a gun and a bow was the only thing he did have. I taught him all I knew, and realized that he should stick to using a gun. Still, if he was trying to hit something ten feet to the left of his target, he would manage to survive.

I wasn't very good with a gun. My aim was a little far off, and I kept hitting myself in the stomach with the gun. After about ten times doing that, I put the weapon down. "You'll get better. It takes a little while to get used to the feeling," Dean says.

We walk over to the wrestling mats. "Okay, how about I teach you to fight?" Dean suggests. I look at him skeptically. I'm sizing him up, seeing how small my chance is of surviving a fight with him. I don't like my odds. "I'll go really easy on you," he promised. I'm still not liking my chances. I can see his muscles ripple whenever he walks. This dude is strong. "Come on. You can call it quits whenever you want."

I'm skeptical, but I agree anyway. I think to myself that there's no harm in learning, but I know that's not true. Looking at this guy, I know he could break my arm with a flick of his wrist. I don't really know what to do, so I stand at the ready. Dean tells me to attack him. I'm not quite sure how to do that, so I just run up and try to push him over. I am knocked flat on my back in less than five seconds.

I try over and over again to attack. Over and over again, I fall flat on my back. I keep trying different tactics, but none of them seem to work. "Do you want to stop?" I am asked several times. Every single time, I say no and I keep on going.

I am exhausted and pretty sore after about an hour of this. I'm also really frustrated. No matter what I try, I always seem to get nowhere but my face on the mat. Finally, I try a really simple maneuver, and I don't get knocked back immediately. Dean is so impressed that he stops. "Impressive. Do it again," he says.

I try again, and it works again. Over and over again I do this and every single time it works. Dean drills this maneuver into my mind until I can't think about anything but that particular move. I have almost mastered it by the time Dean forces me to stop. "Dean, I can keep going," I protest.

"No, you can't. I shouldn't have let you go on this long. You're going to be sorer than hell tomorrow. I'm cutting you off," he says.

"But," I protest. I repeat the word several times, with increasing sadness. "I can keep going," I say, a tragic note to my voice.

"I'm happy you want to do this, and that you're so excited. But I don't want you to come crying to me when you can't move tomorrow. The only way you're going to get any better is if we practice every day," he says. I look down at the ground, disappointed. "I'm not changing my mind, Skylar." I try to pull the sad puppy dog look, but he gives me a very firm look. "Go take a shower. If you can still fight tomorrow, I promise we will," he says.

I go take a shower in the bathroom in my room. I make it nice and long, just because I don't have any annoying parents to cut me off. My parents always got angry whenever I took a long time. Water wasn't very expensive where I lived (at least compared to how it was in California) but my parents hated spending any more money than they had to.

After my shower, I go through my drawers and try to find something that I want to wear to bed. I eventually settle on one of my t-shirts and a pair of shorts that I find in one of the bottom drawers. They are old fashioned, but very comfortable, so I don't mind wearing them. I head out to the kitchen, where Dean is making dinner. It's chili.

Dean tells me that dinner is going to be a few minutes, so I should just sit tight. I sit there, just thinking about the last couple hours. It was fun, I'll admit. I know I'll be sore the next morning, which is fine. At least it would take my mind off of all the crap that was going on-or what had gone on. I would be too focused on the pain of not being able to walk to even care about everything else.

"There's one question I never asked you yesterday. What's your middle name? Or do you even have one?" Dean asks me when he sits down with the chili. He even managed to get his hands on some cornbread.

"It's Jade," I reply.

Dean is already digging into his chili. "Skylar Jade. Pretty name," he says with his mouth half full.

"Thanks," I say, putting a spoonful of the food into my mouth. Dean is a really good cook, which I've already said. Still, I can't stress the fact enough that he really does know how to cook. I take a piece of cornbread and eat it with the chili.

"You know, I think it's really amazing that you can have so much energy and so much determination. You kept being pushed on the ground, but you kept getting right back up and starting over again," Dean says in between bites.

"Most people just say I'm stubborn," I say, shrugging.

"Determined, I think, is a better word for you. Being determined's a good thing. It means you have a drive to go forward and carry on, no matter what gets in your way. That's not a bad thing," Dean says. The compliment is interesting, and I appreciate it. It's nice to know that someone appreciates my stubbornness.


	9. Coconut Cream Pie

I don't ask Dean to put me to bed that night, but he checks on me just before I turn off the light. I don't have any books to read before I go to bed, so I think about and alter a story inside my head to go to sleep. There's this one fan fiction that I read once that was about Harry Potter. I found it rather interesting the way this author portrayed his sister (who hadn't existed until the fan fiction). I will also admit that this author gave me a whole new perspective on characters from the series. I didn't realize how much of an idiot that Ron was. Also, I never realized how much of a bitch Hermione was. Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, was completely amazing and romantic.

So what I did to get myself to sleep was take that fan fiction and write a fan fiction about it. I thought-wouldn't it be awesome if the guys from the Doctor Who and Marvel universe came into that? I have this OC and she comes in, as well. It's a very easy way to get myself to sleep. Anyone who hasn't tried this, you really should. Just saying, it might change your life.

I always thought that dreams were supposed to be pleasant. I'm not saying I didn't have the occasional strange nightmare once in a while, but they weren't ever very bad. Some part of me always knew that they weren't real. I would always wake up knowing that they never could actually happen.

That was until the night that I had my first real nightmare. I was back in my house, and I was in the air vents next to my brother. I could see my parents strapped to two wooden chairs, and I could see those two demons slicing their throats open. I heard the sob come out of my throat, and my brother telling me to go. I heard my brother's scream as I crawled through the air vents. I remember staying strong when they found me, and never letting them hear me scream.

I wake up screaming just before Dean and Sam save me (in the dream.) I remember the feeling that I am going to die, and that there is nothing I can do about it. The worst part is that, when I wake up, it's not all over. It's not like every other dream that's over the second you're awake. My family is still dead, and I still have a scar on my chest from the knife. It's thin, but it's still there.

I start crying when I realize where I am, and that there's no escape from that nightmare. I am sobbing into my pillow. I don't even care at this moment that I have Sam and Dean. All I can think is that they're complete strangers. Sam is an absolute asshole to me, and I've barely begun to know Dean.

I don't know how long I've been crying, but I know that there is no way I can go back to sleep, not now. I still haven't stopped sobbing. I hear a knock at my door, and I freak out for half a second. After that half second, I realize that I must have woken up Dean. This makes me feel like a terrible person. What's even worse is that he's there to see if I'm okay. "Skylar, are you okay?" he asks me.

I wipe the tears off my face. "Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?" I ask him. On the inside, I'm begging for him to notice I am lying.

Luckily, Dean is not some unemotional angel, like Castiel. "You and I both know you're lying," he says. He hesitates, then asks, "Can I come in?" I think about it for a few seconds and then end up saying he can.

He turns on the light, which hurts my eyes. "Sorry," he says. I shrug, and tell him that it's no big deal. "I'm guessing you had a nightmare," Dean says, sitting down on the foot of my bed. I nod. "I'm sorry, kid," he says, and I can tell that he truly means it.

I worry that I'm going to start crying right there, in front of him. "It's just that it wasn't some made up terror or anything. It really happened, and that's the worst thing ever," I say, biting my lip as hard as I can to hold back tears.

"You know, Skylar, you don't have to be so strong just because I'm here. I know you're trying to be tough, but I'm not going to think any less of you if you let it all out," Dean says. I can see that there is true sadness and concern in his eyes, which makes me feel just a little bit better. At the same time, though, it places a great weight on my heart.

I nod, but I don't cry. "I've cried enough for one night, don't you think?" Then I realize why he's awake. I feel kind of bad. "And, I'm sorry I woke you up," I add.

Dean looks like I just talked in an alien language or something. "You can't help nightmares from coming, Skylar. They come whether or not you want them to. I've had my fair share of them. I've actually been to Hell. Sam even got locked up in Lucifer's cage," he says.

My face must be pretty hilarious, because Dean laughs. "I'll tell you the story another time." I don't know how exactly he treats the memory of being in Hell, because he treats it like a joke in front of me. But, at the same time, I can see that there is some torture in his eyes from that experience.

It is literally as if a lightbulb flashed above Dean's head. "I've got an idea. Why don't we watch a movie-your pick and we can eat pie and just forget about all the crap that's going on in the world?" he suggests.

I look over at the little black alarm clock with the bright red numbers on it. "It's one in the morning," I say, like it's the most ridiculous idea in the world.

"So you can fall asleep when you're watching the movie. Come on, are you going to go back to sleep any other way?" he asks me. I realize that he's most likely right, so I give in. "What movie do you want?" he asks me.

"Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone," I say immediately. I figure, why not? Besides, Dean doesn't look like the kind of person who's ever picked up a JK Rowling book, so he might learn something from it.

"Okay. I'm pretty sure we have that," he says. He starts getting up to leave, and I follow him. We walk down the hall (I'm already feeling a little sore) and go to the kitchen/dining room which has the living room in front of it. Dean looks through the movie selection quickly, and pulls out a disk. "Got it!" he says triumphantly. I can't help but smile.

He puts in the movie and goes over to the fridge as the movie is going through the preview/commercial stage in the beginning. He pulls out a whole pie-coconut cream. "This stuff is amazing. I like it almost as much as I like german chocolate," he says. He sets the pie on the table, and I sit down across from him. He gives me a fork, and he starts digging into the food. It takes me a few seconds, but I eventually start eating, as well.

Dean really does like his pie, I realize. By the time the movie has gone through the opening credits, we are done with the entire thing. I'll admit, though, the pie was amazing. We sit down on the couch with a big blanket and start watching the movie.

I have to answer like a bajillion questions about the entire series. Eventually, I have a hard time not giving away everything from the other books. "Why do they call normal people muggles?" Dean asks in a hushed whisper.

"They just do, Dean," I say, annoyed, because it's the billionth time he's asked a stupid question like that. He asked me why it was platform 9 and 3/4 and not platform 9 and 1/2. I try to be patient, but he's a muggle. Well, a muggle becoming a mudblood-if I have anything to do with it.

Eventually, around the part where Harry, Ron, and Hermione figure out where the sorcerer's stone is hidden, I become really sleepy. I sort of curl up in a ball next to Dean and lay my head on his shoulder. He is surprised by this, but also warmed. I fall asleep within ten minutes.


	10. The Day of the Living Bruise

I wake up the next morning on the couch I fell asleep on, with a blanket wrapped around me and a pillow underneath my head. My entire body is like one giant pulled muscle. Damn it, Dean was right. Still, in spite of that, I had no regrets. I sat up (very painfully, I might add) and looked around. Dean was making breakfast already. "Morning, Skylar," he says. I groan and flop back down on the pillow. The light hurts my eyes, and everything else feels sore, so I wasn't having the best morning. "I told you," Dean says.

I want to sit back up and give him the stink eye, but my stomach muscles hurt too much to give me that ability. "You suck," I say instead.

Dean laughs and comes over with a plate for me about a minute later. "Come on, sit up," he says. It takes me a while, and a lot of pain, but I eventually make it so my feet are hanging over the edge of the couch, and I am upright. Dean gives me a mug of hot chocolate with a tower of whipped cream on top. The plate is full of pancakes, also with whipped cream on top. "I watched the rest of that movie last night after you fell asleep," Dean says just after I put a bite into my mouth.

I swallow before saying anything. "Did you like it?" I ask him.

Dean shrugs. "It was good, but wizard stuff really isn't my kind of thing. Witches are usually evil and mischievous, so I didn't find the whole innocent little kid thing to be accurate," he explains.

"You've met witches before?" I ask, excited.

"They were never pleasant experiences, Skylar. Like I said, they are evil. Also, most of them sell their souls to demons in order to get their power," Dean says.

That gives me a whole new perspective on the world of Hogwarts, but I shake that strange feeling off quickly. I just eat more and drink my hot chocolate. "So, what do you want to do today?" Dean asks me after the silence goes on for a while.

"I am a giant bruise," I say. Looking at my arms, I am covered in purple and blue spots. "I blame you," I say, sounding completely serious, but I'm really not at all.

"It's your fault for being so stubborn," Dean says, shrugging.

"I thought you said I was determined," I pointed out.

"I didn't realize that you would be, as you said earlier, a giant bruise. The physical evidence states that you were stubborn," he says.

"You honestly have no clue what you're saying, do you?" I ask him. He doesn't admit it, but he doesn't deny it, either. That makes me smile. "I suppose that, since I can't do any wrestling, I can work on my weapons skills," I suggest.

"Don't you want to do anything fun?" Dean asks me. I shrug. "I don't think I brought home a normal kid. There is something seriously wrong with you," he says.

"You aren't the first one to say that," I say with a big grin on my face. All of my friends thought I was crazy, so this isn't the first time I have heard this. Dean's kind of silent, so I finish up my breakfast. When I'm done, I get up, which hurts more than you would expect. I am literally a giant bruise. I clean off my dish and put it in the dishwasher (without being asked, I might add). Sorry, those kind of little things are important to eleven year olds.

"Come on, let's go," I say as I start walking to the weapons room. Dean gets up and off the couch and follows me. His long strides combined with my sore muscles make him catch up to me very fast.

I pull out the bow again and shoot over and over again until I get three bulls eyes in a row (that takes about half an hour). Dean is watching me with interest, probably calculating a bunch of crap that I can't think about. After I get the three bulls eyes, I walk over to the knives. "Can you teach me how to throw these?" I ask Dean.

"Honestly, I've done very little with throwing knives," he says.

"Why?" I ask him.

"Because I've got a gun," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world-which it really isn't.

"What if you don't have a gun, Dean? Ever thought about that? You could be stranded in the middle of nowhere and have nothing but a piece of rock and some wood. What would you do then?" I ask him, putting my hands on my hips all sassy like.

"I'm not saying that I don't know how to use a knife, Skylar. Knifes are very useful, especially because they don't make an infinite number of angel blade bullets. I just don't throw them," he says.

"What if you have to throw one? What if that's your only hope of survival. Sometimes, Dean, you may not have the chance to run up and kill the guy. Sometimes you don't have enough time," I say, bitterness and sadness in my voice.

"I'm sorry we couldn't save your family, Skylar. I wish we could have done something. You wouldn't be here if they were alive," Dean says, pity and sadness and guilt in his voice.

I sigh. "I don't blame you or Sam or Castiel for my family dying. You saved my life-that's good enough. It's just… I would give anything if it meant my brother survived," I say.

"You loved your brother, didn't you?" Dean asks me. I nod as a tear rolls out of my eye. "I understand that more than probably anyone. I've done some crazy things to make my brother live. When he died once, I even sold my soul so he could live," he says.

"By saying once, I assume you mean that he's died more than once?" I ask. Dean shrugs. "You guys are crazy," I say.

"You're just getting that?" Dean asks, a smile on his face. I pick up a throwing knife, and chuck it at the target. My aim is very far off. I don't even make it on the target. Also, the knife hits with the wrong end. I put my fingers on the sharp end of the blade and flick it with a lot of force. This time, I make it on the target. No where close to the bullseye, but close enough. I throw over and over again, until I make it just outside the bullseye. "Wow, kid. You're really good," Dean says.

"I pick up things like that fast," I say, shrugging. I wasn't the most physically apt, but I had good aim. I made up for all my lack in physical strength in determination and sharpness of the mind.

"I can tell. See if you can make a bullseye," he says. I throw a few times, and after what seems like a hundred throws (it was only 20, according to Dean) I finally make a bullseye. "Good job. I think with a little practice, you could be pretty lethal."

It's strange that he thinks an eleven year old can be lethal, but I don't say anything about it. "I think once I get better at wrestling, I'll be lethal. Also, I haven't actually tried shooting on the move or anything," I say instead.

"You seem like the kind of person who will pick that up quickly," Dean says.

"Can I try shooting on the move?" I ask him. What I'm really asking is if I can go outside, I just don't say it that way.

"Maybe later. The sun already set today, so you can't exactly do that right now," Dean says. I look over at the clock in the weapons and training room.

It says four o'clock. "Really? Sorry, I don't buy it," I say. Dean doesn't move and continues looking at me with that same stern expression. "You just don't want me to go outside," I realize. Dean doesn't deny it. "Oh my god, _really_? I haven't been outside since I came here," I say.

"The safest place in the world for you is inside the bunker. Can you blame me for being a little skeptical about you going outside? A demon could get you," Dean says.

"I could also drown in the shower," I say. Of course, his thing is more likely to happen to me, but not in the hour I'd be outside. Besides, I'd have Dean watching me. The point was that I was trying to get him to sound how ridiculous it was.

"Dean! I'm home!" I hear a voice from the kitchen say. Damn, Moose.

"Sam's here," Dean says and leaves the room. I follow behind him, because I have nothing better to do. Dean goes a lot faster than I do, and it takes a lot of pain to catch up to him.

"Dean, what did you do to her?" is the first question that Sam asks when I come into the room. Dean looks like he has no idea what Sam's talking about. "No offense to you, Skylar, but she looks like a giant bruise," Sam says to his brother.

"It's not my fault," Dean says.

"_Really_?" Sam and I both ask him at the same time. Sam looks over at me. "Well, it wasn't completely his fault, I'll admit. Still, he should have known to go easier on an eleven year old," I say, and end up kind of rambling on.

"Dean, you should have gone easy on her," Sam says.

"I didn't attack her," Dean says.

"So you didn't go easy on me when I attacked you?" I ask Dean. He shrugs. "I'm covered in purple, Dean. You should go easier on me next time," I say.

"Well, you got better, didn't you?" he asks me. I have to admit, he's right. "See? Also, it wasn't completely my fault. This girl has more determination than most of the hunters I know, and that's saying something."

"Yeah, it was partly my fault. I kept going, even after I got slammed on my back a thousand times," I admit.

"So, you figured-I just got my ass beaten, let's go do that again," Sam says, more confused than anything else. He's not being irritable or anything. He is genuinely concerned about why I would want to get my ass kicked over and over again.

"I wanted to get better," I say, shrugging.

"Are you sure you didn't hit her head too hard, Dean?" Sam asks his brother, although I can tell from his tone that he is joking.

"I think it's incredible that she was so determined," Dean says. He walks over to the fridge and pulls out two beer bottles. He pops the caps off of both of them and hands one to Sam. He turns on the TV to this one baseball game, and I sit down on the comfortable chair that is next to the couch.

Later that night, Dean puts me to sleep. "What if the nightmares come back?" I ask him. I was so scared the night before when I woke up. It was a painful memory.

"You can wake me up, and I'll be there for you. I promise," Dean says. I smile. I don't think anyone's been that nice to me in my whole life. Especially not someone who I just met.

I thank him. "I just have one more question. Why are you being so nice to me? You don't have to be. I mean, giving me a place to live is enough," I say. It doesn't make sense to me at all. People aren't supposed to be this kind to strangers. Human nature makes them that way.

"Other than just the fact that you're a really awesome kid, I think you're just the friend that I need. A while ago, I had a kid named Ben, and things didn't exactly turn out well. That's why I'm so insistent on protecting you. I can't let anything happen to you, not after everything that happened," Dean says. I can tell from just looking at his face that he feels responsible for what happened.

"I'm sorry that whatever happened to Ben happened. Don't blame yourself, though. Whatever happened wasn't your fault," I say, with true sincerity.

"You don't know that. You may be smart, but you aren't that smart," Dean says.

"I can read people, Dean. I can tell that you always blame yourself for things that aren't your fault. You are a good person-I know that for sure. You're just dangerous to be around, and most people who know you already know that risk," I say.

"Okay, kid, you're starting to freak me out with how much you know. It's just crazy," Dean says.

"I also did see all of those news stories about you from a couple years ago. I had to do a research project this year at school about a criminal. My teacher was completely insane. Anyway, I was looking through some stories when I found you and Sam. I spent three weeks doing research on you guys. Everything I found was very interesting, and my presentation and report both got A's," I explained.

"Well, you're welcome. What was the most interesting thing you found?" Dean asks me.

"Every single time that you were accused of robbery or murder or something, there were several witnesses who swore you and Moose saved their lives. It made me think that you guys were a little like folk heroes, which is a topic I included in my report. The title of the presentation was actually 'Modern Robin Hood' or something like that," I explain.

"It sounds like you took a lot of time and put a lot of energy into this. What was your teacher even expecting your class to have?" Dean asks.

"Not a ten page report, that's for sure. She nearly had a heart attack when I shoved this huge stack of papers on her desk. I even said 'I'm sorry, I didn't have enough time to do enough research.'" I smile at the memory, because it was a pleasant experience. I got so into the subject I was given, and I was so interested in it. I obsessed over it completely.

"Why would you do that? I mean, it was just a school report. You didn't have to do ten times what was expected," Dean says. Just from that comment, I can tell that he never did more than the bare minimum at school.

I shrug. "You and Sam have a pretty interesting background. I got really interested. What else can I say?" I ask.

"Okay, you're officially crazy," Dean says. I shrug. "Night, kid," he says and leaves my room. I settle into an easy sleep. Knowing I have someone looking out for me can do wonders for my mental health.


	11. Pay Attention

The next couple days were pretty uneventful. I am still too sore to do any wrestling, so I get better with my weapons skills. I am getting really good with throwing knives and I'm even starting to get good with a gun. Even Sam seems impressed at times.

Sam is starting to be nicer to me, which surprises me. He apologizes for being such a jerk to me the first couple days, and asks for my forgiveness. I tell him that I won't forgive him until he proves to be worthy of it. He seems to think that it's a reasonable demand, so he's nicer to me.

Past all of the jerkness, I realize that Sam is actually a rather nice person. He's a bit of a nerd, which I appreciate. When Dean tells him that I wrote a ten page report about them, he's both freaked out and impressed.

"I also remember reading those books by Carver Edlund-the Supernatural series. I just thought it was a theory about why you guys were the way you were. I found it interesting that a person could turn a criminal record so dark and twisted into a heroic tale. Of course, everything made sense, so I always had a sneaking suspicion that the story was true," I explain.

"That explains why you weren't as freaked out as you should have been about the whole demon thing. You suspected that there was some truth in the books, so it wasn't a complete shock to you," Sam says.

I shrug. "Well, actually, the fact that I was right kind of freaked me out. It's just crazy. These things aren't supposed to exist," I say.

"I know, and I'm sorry you were dragged into this," Dean says. I know that he truly means it, because I have figured out by now that Dean is always sincere with everything he says. He keeps his promises. "So, the real question is do you ship Wincest?" Dean asks me.

"What kind of perverted people ship Wincest?" I ask him, completely freaked out by that question.

"Thank you. You should tell the people who ship us to go to a mental hospital," Dean says.

"I have. Most of my friends who have read the books don't ship Wincest, though. Destiel is the most popular ship," I explain. Sam starts chuckling a little, where Dean just looks completely confused. "They ship you and Castiel, Dean," I say slowly and clearly so Dean can understand.

Dean's face was hilarious. I don't know if it was embarrassment or just pure shock. "Oh, and people ship you and Gabriel, Sam," I say. Sam's face was completely priceless. "At least it isn't Wincest," I say to both of them.

After completely freaking out, Dean asks me about my nightmares. "You haven't woken me up in a while. Does that mean that the nightmares are gone?" I have to think about the answer I give him. Should I make him feel better or should I tell him the truth? Unfortunately, I think about it too long. "So I guess that means no," Dean says.

I shrug. "I've just gone from screaming to quietly sobbing. I always feel so bad when I wake you up," I say.

"You shouldn't. It's not your fault you have these nightmares. I know how it is to have them, and having someone to comfort you after you wake up makes it ten times better," Dean says. Sam looks over at him, as if he's seeing something in his brother that he hasn't before.

"Thanks," I say. I honestly don't think I'm going to wake him up, though. It was fine the first time, but I just don't feel comfortable with more than once. I feel like I would be taking advantage of the person who is currently the most important person in the world to me. Without Dean, Sam, or Castiel, I would be dead. I can't take advantage of Dean-it would just be morally wrong.

"On another note," I say, "I think that I can try wrestling again. I feel much better and almost all of my bruises are gone." It's a huge accomplishment for me-having most of my bruises gone. I am very proud of my body's healing abilities. Those bruises should have taken a lot longer to heal.

"Speaking of that, I have decided that I will be the one to train you with that," Sam says, getting up. Since when does he have the right to do that?

"What? How did you suddenly decide that?" Dean asks his brother.

"She was a giant bruise after the last time with you," Sam reasons. I suppose that he does, in fact, have a point.

"Still, you shouldn't have a say in what happens to her. You were a jerk to her and you made it very clear that you can't love her like your own flesh and blood. I've been here for her since the beginning," Dean says.

I did not know that Sam said that, and, for some reason, it feels like a stab in the gut. I feel like it really shouldn't surprise me, but it does. Dean realizes that he said something that was very hurtful to me. "I'm sorry, Skylar. I shouldn't have said that," he says.

"Honestly, I'm not surprised. I mean, it's not like I could ever amount to something that you know from the second it's born. I'm eleven, and you guys barely know me," I say, trying to reassure myself, although I end up babbling on and on. But there is something in what Dean said earlier. "But, in saying that Sam can't love me like flesh and blood, does that mean that you can?" I ask him.

"Of course I can. Family isn't built on just blood. Family is built based on people you love. And, saying that, not all blood is family. I nearly killed my grandfather after he betrayed us," Dean explained.

I think about what he says for a while. It makes complete sense. "Well, I suppose that, since I have no biological family anymore, I'll love you and Sam as if you were my dad and my uncle," I say.

"What about your real dad?" Dean asks, concerned.

"Oh, you mean the guy who was always on business trips in Japan? The guy who wasn't ever home, even for my birthday?" I ask Dean, bitterness and contempt in my voice.

Dean and Sam just kind of look at me uncomfortably. "What about your mom?" Sam asks after the silence becomes uncomfortable.

"She was usually with him. Zack and I usually were left with a nanny. Our nanny never even cared about us, though. Zack and I just really had each other," I explained.

Dean and Sam look at me like I'm some little lost puppy. But, there is something in their eyes, too. It's sympathy. "Our Dad was pretty deadbeat, too," Dean says.

"At least I had Zack," I say, shrugging.

"Yeah, without Dean, I probably would have starved to death or gotten attacked by demons or something," Sam says.

"Dean's the older brother, right?" I ask Sam.

"Yeah. We never told you that, did we?" Sam asks.

"No," I say.

"Well, how did you know?" Sam asks.

"Haven't you realized, Sammy? She can take a look at a person and know their entire life story. She's that deep," Dean says.

"Yeah, it is a little freaky how you can do that," Sam says.

I shrug. "I pay attention. Dean acts like the older brother, and you act like how I do, sorry-did, around my older brother. You act like he's the most important person in the whole world," I say.

Dean looks at his little brother, intrigued by what I have said. Then, he looks back at me. "How is that you're so deep?" he asks.

"I pay attention. A lot of people don't pay attention, so they miss a lot. You'd be surprised how much you can learn about a person if you just pay a little more attention," I say.

Sam and Dean look at me as if I just cracked the secret to the universe. "Great, Dean, we just happened to find the smartest eleven year old in existence," Sam says.

I smile. "Well, are we going to sit here all day or am I going to get better?" I ask them, getting up. I start walking over to the weapons room, and I see them following me. "I want to see if Sam is as good as his brother," I say when I get there.

"Well, I was going to go easy on you," Sam says.

"I know. I want you guys to fight. Just for fun," I say, a grin wide on my face. Sam and Dean look at each other, surprised by the request. "Dean, you owe it to me for making me a giant bruise last time. Sam, you owe it to me for being such a jerk to me," I tell them.

"Manipulative little thing," Dean murmurs to Sam. I hear him, so I just smile brightly. I do have other reasons for forcing them to do this-I want to observe. "Well, Sammy, ready to get your ass kicked?" Dean asks and walks over to the mats. Sam follows him, and they start fighting.

I observe the way that they fight, and evaluate every little movement. They're both moving so fast, and so precisely, that blinking will make me miss a lot. They use strength in a lot of their movements, which I know isn't going to help my case. I think of ways I can use their strength against them. By the end of ten minutes of fighting, I have figured out almost everything that there is to know.

Dean ends up winning; I decide it's because he has more experience than Sam, and because he's just overall, a better fighter. Sam was trying to drag it out, probably because he has more endurance than his brother. But Dean is a much better fighter-more fearsome and more willing to take risks.

"Sorry, Sam, I choose Dean to help me. I don't care if I end up a giant bruise again. Dean's a better fighter," I say, shrugging.

Sam is clearly a little bit insulted, but I don't care. I have Dean help me out, and I get better and better. I have a lot more knowledge about it after analyzing Sam and Dean fight. Even Dean notices that I'm getting better. "Wow, kid. You're a lot better," he says.

"I paid attention when you and Sam fought," I say in response, shrugging a little. Then, I attack again.

I'm not nearly as sore the next day as I was the first time. Also, I wasn't completely covered in bruises. This was proving my point-paying attention will get you much further in life than trial and error.


	12. Why is Crowley so Ugly?

I get adjusted to my new life. Sam and Dean keep me inside, which I suppose makes sense. Even if the demons who killed my parents are dead, there is still the high possibility that there are others out there. According to the two brothers, demons don't kill off such a giant bloodline just for kicks. There's always a reason, and there's never just two demons working on the case. Not for something this big.

So I spend a couple days wondering why demons would have a reason to kill every living relative I have. And why was my family last to go? That could have just been coincidence, or really luck. "You know, Dean, if my family wasn't the last to die, you would have sent me off to live with a relative and I would have died for sure," I muse when I'm eating lunch-which is chili.

Dean looks at me for a moment, as if he's analyzing exactly what I meant. "You're right. I suppose things worked out the way they did for a good reason," he says.

"Imagine-I would be dead right now if all of my relatives didn't die before my parents and brother," I say. It sounds terrible, but I'm so freaking relieved. But, if you think about it, it's not that bad. My entire extended family would have died anyway, regardless of when my immediate family went. There is no point in having someone who didn't die, die because of timing.

"Do you think that there's any reason why your family was the last?" Dean asks.

I think about it for a long time. Nothing comes to mind at first, but then I have a light bulb go on inside my head. "My parents were on a business trip in Japan until the day before they died," I realize. "They were gone since before the killings started."

"Thank god for that," Dean says.

"Is it terrible that I'm glad my entire extended family died before the demons got to my house?" I ask Dean. I know I said all that stuff above about how it wasn't, but that was me just trying to console myself after the thought crossed my mind. I needed someone else to confirm that I wasn't a monster for thinking the way I did.

Dean doesn't disappoint me. "Of course not. There's no point in having you die just because of timing. It's a good thing that things worked out the way that they did," he says. Of course, we're talking about the murder of the entire Russell bloodline. Still, what he says makes me feel much better.

"I see you got yourself into a little predicament, Squirrel," a british voice says from behind my back. I turn around to see what at first appears to be a normal man. But, as I look at him, I see a dark black cloud of smoke and blood behind his skin. Like, I don't mean it was behind his head. It was behind his actual face-like behind his skin. He would be somewhat attractive if it weren't for that. The black smoke makes him rather ugly, and not just because there's black smoke behind his face. It's evil, and I can sense that.

"What do you want, Crowley?" Dean asks, annoyed.

"Give me the girl, Dean. This little girl has caused quite a lot of trouble down in hell. I figured that, when she disappeared, she went with you two clowns. I was right, of course," the man says. He's rather short compared to the companions I've had for the past two weeks.

"Why do you want Skylar?" Dean asks, only a hint curiosity. He's just annoyed for the most part.

The man with the black smoke behind his face tells a rather sobering story. "The Russell family cheated a deal with one of my top salesmen. Your grandfather or something," the man says to me. I'm barely listening. The black smoke is the only thing really interesting me. "Made a deal with him, and killed the hellhounds that came after him. When he was close to death, he made a deal with an angel to make sure he went to heaven. Now my guys don't like being cheated, so he went and killed every last member of the Russell family for revenge. The last piece is little Skylar here," he explains.

"You aren't killing her," Dean says firmly.

"Why are you so ugly?" I ask Crowley, more concerned and curious than actually insulting.

Crowley gives me a look of utter annoyance. "Well aren't you a lovely little thing," he says with venom in his voice.

"I'm actually referring to the cloud of black smoke that seems to be inside you. It's really ugly," I say.

I don't know who's more shocked-Dean or Crowley. "You can see that?" they both ask me.

I shrug. "Why is that such a big deal?" I ask.

"You can see his true form. Now that is cool," Dean says. Crowley is just standing there, completely stunned. Sam comes in reading an old leather bound book. "Hey, Sammy, Skylar can see a demon's true form," Dean says, as if it's some huge deal. I'm still confused about why everyone's impressed.

"Since when could you do that?" Sam asks me.

"Since now, I guess," I say, shrugging. "Why is that such a big deal?" I repeat.

"Humans can't see the true form of a demon. Only angels and demons have that capability," Dean explains.

"So I'm an angel or a demon or something?" I ask, thinking that that's what they're implying. Being an angel sounds ridiculous, and I would probably kill myself if I was a demon.

"No, not at all. I just think that, after you saw your family die, you developed this gift," Sam says. I'm confused on how that happened, so I ask him for a little more information. "Sometimes after kids see something really traumatic, they develop some sort of psychic gift," he explains.

"But we've never heard of anyone developing the ability to see the true form of a demon. That's a first," Dean says.

"Hello, I have some unfinished business here. She can't continue living," Crowley says, waving his hand around like a pansy or something.

Dean and Sam both give him what I'd like to call the double bitch face. "You aren't taking her anywhere. She's staying here, and she's staying alive," Dean says.

"Listen, _I_ made that deal with her grandpa or whatever. I need to make sure she dies, or I'll lose respect as the King of Hell," Crowley admits.

"How about we make a deal? Either she lives or you die. It's that simple," Dean says with a wide and completely fake grin on his face.

"You're all such bastards," Crowley murmurs and snaps his fingers. He's gone.

"So, you can see the true form of demons. That is so cool," Dean says.

"Yeah, that could be pretty useful," Sam says. Dean shoots Sam a venomous look. "What?" Sam asks.

"I know what you're thinking, and that's not happening," Dean says. Sam looks confused. "We aren't taking her on any cases with us just because she can spot a demon in a crowd," he says.

"Dean, it would save a lot of time," Sam says, trying to convince his brother. I don't know what to think. I mean, coming with them on a case sounds really fun, but at the same time, incredibly dangerous. But did the danger make it even more exciting? Possibly, yes.

"You really want to drag her out into a world of demons after demons are already after her? If Crowley's the one who ordered the killing of her entire family, demons are going to be looking out for her and they will stop at nothing to kill her," Dean says. Okay, officially freaked out right now. At this point, I'm really just trying to process everything. I just met the demon responsible for my family's death, and I really should be having a seizure or something right now. Also, apparently I can see the true form of a demon. I really should be having some sort of panic attack.

So that's what I did. "Skylar, are you okay?" Dean asks me. I don't respond. My mind is going through temporary insanity at the moment. "She's in shock," Dean says. Well, no duh. "What do I do for someone in shock?"

"Get her hot chocolate and a blanket, I don't know!" Sam says. Well, them panicking helped my case a whole lot. Thanks for that, guys.

Eventually, Dean decides that the best way to help me out is by talking to me. "Skylar, I know that this is a lot to take in. But you need to calm down. Look at me, Skylar. Nothing is going to happen to you. I swear on my life that nothing will happen to you. We will protect you. And I'm sorry about everything that's going on in your life. I know you didn't choose this, and I'm so sorry about everything that's happened," he says in a calming voice.

I take a few deep breaths. "I'm okay. I'm okay. Just… _everything_," I say, shaking my head.

"You're strong, kid. You'd make a good hunter," Dean says. Then he realizes what he's saying and adds quickly, "Not that I'm ever going to let that happen." I shrug, although I really want to see what being a hunter is like. From the limited knowledge that I have of it, I can tell that it's definitely exciting. Also, you save people. What's more rewarding than that? Knowing that you save people's lives? I can't see anything more appealing.


	13. Skittle Soul

I go to bed early that night. Sam and Dean are just bugging me crazy with how much they're concerned about me. Dean's the worst of the pair. I mean, it's sweet and all, and I appreciate that they care. But there is a certain point where you just, well, go completely insane. I tell them to stop worrying so much-that it's getting on my nerves.

They say that they'll back off a little, but that doesn't work out for both of them. Sam almost keeps his promise, which I really appreciate. At least I know that he's trying. Dean, on the other hand, is a completely different story. It's almost as if he's trying to do the exact opposite. He becomes more annoying, by _a lot_. "Dean, I swear to god. I am going to kill something if you ask me if I'm okay one more time," I end up saying.

Again, he promises that he'll back off. Then, he doesn't. He keeps bugging me, and I snap eventually. He asks me if I'm okay, and I just give him this fake smile and stand up. I walk over to the weapons/practice area in the bunker. Then, I take a gun and shoot the crap out of the target. Then, I use throwing knives and mutilate the 'corpse' even more.

When I come back into the living room, Sam and Dean just stare at me like I did something completely out of the ordinary. "I told you," is all I say. Then, I walk into my room and close the door, not being particularly loud, but just loud enough.

When I wake up the next morning, I feel oddly rested and I have this weird feeling. I don't know how to explain it with anything other than enlightenment. Like not the religious crap, but I feel like a great veil had just been lifted off my eyes. It's rather strange, but it feels really good.

I get up and look through my wardrobe, more out of ancient habit than anything else. Then I realize that I have three outfits, and nothing else. It's a little bit depressing, but it's happened almost every day this week so I get over it quickly.

After I run my fingers through my incredibly choppy and messed up hair, I walk down to the living room, where Sam and Dean really seem to live. Dean is making breakfast. (I swear, does the dude ever do anything but make food?) Then, I see something that looks like a trick of the light. It's like there is a giant rainbow person inside him. At first, I think that there's no way that I'm seeing what I think I'm seeing.

Then, I look over at Sam. Inside of him, there're some things that find rather strange. Mostly it's a swirl of colors-mostly earth tones and vibrant reds and blacks. But, I can swear that I see images of moose worked into the swirl of colors. Also, blood. Dean's just a rainbow, which I find rather strange. Of course, worked into the rainbow, I see certain images. Just memories, I think.

"Why are you a rainbow and why is Moose, well, a moose?" I ask. Dean looks at me like I'm crazy. Sam looks at me the same exact way, except I see a swirl of resent in his moose and color blob. Resent looks kind of orangish blackish red. It's a bit hard to explain, but I can tell immediately that the color swirl entering is resent. "You know, Sam, you really shouldn't get so irritated when a little girl calls you moose. I'm only stating facts," I say brightly.

Sam rolls his eyes, and Dean just gives me this look of 'whatever.' "Anyway, you look like a rainbow, Dean," I say. Confusion creeps into the rainbow.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asks me.

"I mean, there is a rainbow inside of you. Almost like the black smoke that I saw in Crowley, except a rainbow. Sam's the same way, except moose and earth tones and red," I explain.

"Wait, you can see my soul?" Dean asks me.

"If your soul is a rainbow, then, yeah," I say.

"Haha, your soul's a rainbow, Dean," Sam says tauntingly.

"Your soul is filled with moose images, Sam. Don't judge the skittle soul," I say, trying not to laugh. Dean laughs a little at the whole 'skittle soul' remark.

"Well, there is one way to find out if she's truly seeing our souls. Cas would know," Sam points out.

Dean shrugs. "Yeah, I suppose so. I wonder where he is," he muses.

I hear a woosh and I see the man in the trench coat. I can see his true form, as well. It's this magnificent and beautiful creature. But, it's also way too big to fit inside his human vessel. Like trying to fit an elephant into a jewelry box. "You called," Cas says. I can't help but smile. Dean barely asked Cas to come, and here he is.

"Is it possible for a human to see souls and true forms?" Dean asks.

Cas thinks for a moment, which I don't take as a good sign. "I suppose it is possible. I've never heard of it happening, though," he says.

"Would you be able to tell if that's what she's seeing?" Dean asks.

Cas nods. "Yes. For example, if she were to see Sam's soul, she would see earth tones and red and black, combined with images of moose. Your soul is more like a rainbow," he says.

Sam and Dean look at each other, as if Cas just made some huge revelation. "I told you so," is what I say.

"If you can truly see the true form of someone, what does my true form look like?" Cas asks me.

I have a hard time not laughing. "Well, it's like someone tried to shove the incredible hulk into a hat box," I say. Cas doesn't understand the reference, but Sam and Dean do. "The incredible hulk is this giant green man," I explain. Cas nods, although he's still confused. "Also, your true self is beautiful. Magnificent, even. A true work of god," I say to make things a little bit clearer for everyone.

"There is also one more part about seeing a human's soul. Can you tell me what that is?" Cas asks.

For a little while, I've got no clue what he's talking about. Then I look over at Dean and I can see curiosity combined with confusion brimming in his soul. "You can see their emotions," I end up saying.

Sam and Dean both get a little bit of bright pink embarrassment and yellow surprise. I look over at Cas, who laughs a little. "Well, I guess you can see it, then. That is truly incredible. I wonder if you could tell the difference between humans and vampires and such," Cas says.

"It would be cool if I could. Can you?" I ask Cas.

"No, I can't," he says, which honestly surprises me. "This is only because humans and vampires have such a similar soul that it's hard to tell the difference. Sometimes, I can see a slight difference based on emotions, but that's very rare," he explains when he realizes my surprise. It takes him a lot longer than it should, considering the fact that he can see my soul and see my emotions.

"So you're saying this entire time you've been able to see my emotions?" Dean asks Cas, clearly on edge. Cas nods. Dean looks like he thinks he's screwed, which makes me smile.

Cas leaves a few minutes later, after explaining a few things about my new gift. Basically, it has a pretty good use-I can spot demons just by looking at them. I can also tell when someone is turning evil-black is the color of evil. If I see any of that in a soul, I know that I shouldn't trust that person. I should probably run, if anything.

I spend a lot of the rest of the day staring at Sam and Dean, trying to decipher their emotions. Watching souls change color is very interesting. It's like watching a movie, almost, except it's also a bit of a game. By the end of the day, they are completely freaked out, but I can see them thinking about my gift. Dean is skeptical about it, and Sam sees a lot of use in it. Dean, by the end of the day, knows that it is useful. He's still worried though, for some reason. I decide that I'll figure out why soon. Combined with the ability to see souls and my natural talent of reading people, I know I can.


	14. God I hate that word

Using the same clothes over and over again only works for so long. If you're locked inside for the majority of the day, it isn't as big of a deal. You can make a shirt last longer, just by not going outside, where the wear and tear really happens.

But, there comes a point where three shirts and three pairs of jeans isn't enough. That happened about three weeks after I came to live with the Winchesters. I had had enough of just wearing the same clothes over and over again. I am honestly surprised that it didn't happen sooner, but part of that is because I'm a bit of a wimp. I was too embarrassed or something-I'm not exactly sure-to ask the boys if I could have some new clothes. I guess I thought it would just be too awkward to mention the fact that I had three outfits (well, nine, really. But all the jeans look the exact same so yeah) and that I was tired of wearing the same clothes for three days straight and repeating the outfit.

So, I go up to the boys early in the morning, just so they don't have a stupid excuse that gets them out of making a clothes run. "I've been using the same clothes for the past three weeks. I need new clothes," I state simply when I go up to them.

I can see the surprise in their souls. (for the past few days, I've been studying emotions and how they looked in souls. By now, it is easy). But, after a few seconds, the surprise goes down. "Okay. The closest clothing store is like forty miles away from here, so…" Dean says.

I roll my eyes. "Go to a thrift store or a surplus store or something, then. Have Castiel transport you there or something. I really couldn't care less how it happens, just get me new clothes," I say, full on sassy Skylar mode.

Dean's surprised by my sassiness. I don't see why. It was coming eventually, wasn't it? "Okay, calm down, kid. If we don't have time to get you anything today, you can borrow something of mine," he says.

"You're seven inches taller than me and you're also buff," I say. God, who uses the word buff anymore? It sounds so weird that I actually say that. It gives me the shivers, ugh. Still, I can't think of a better way to say what I mean. "How am I going to fit into any of your clothes?" I ask him.

"You're tall for your age. You'll manage," Dean says. Then, he says something that makes me smile. "And please, don't use the word 'buff.' It sends chills down my spine." I smile at that, because I wasn't expecting that, and he thinks the same way I do.

"Sorry. I hated using that word, too. If I had thought of a better word to say at the time-believe me, I wouldn't have said it," I say. Then, I think back to the thing he said before he complained about my word usage. "I'll manage as a clown if I wear your clothes," I say.

Sam flinches. "Don't be a baby, Sammy. Just because she says the word 'clown' doesn't mean that any clowns are going to attack you," Dean says.

"Seriously?" I ask, surprised. "You're scared of clowns? You're a big bad demon hunter and you're scared of _clowns_?" I ask Moose.

Sam gets all defensive. "What are you scared of?" he asks, trying to begin to make a point.

I'm not going to lie to him, but I have a plan in mind on what to say in just a little while. "Bees and spiders," I say.

"Your fear isn't any less ridiculous than my clown fear," he says, acting completely satisfied with himself.

"I'm also eleven," I say, putting as much sass into that as I possibly can.

"You just got verbally abused by an eleven year old," Dean says, clearly impressed with me. He's also making fun of his little brother, which reminds me that they're brothers. Despite the fact that they're demon killing machines, they're still brothers and they still have fights and they're both still trying to be the dominant one.

"So, clothes?" I ask Dean.

"Sorry, kid, we can't today. We have to do research for this case. It's going to take all day, even with Sam's ability to read faster than what's humanly possible," Dean says, and I can tell that he is truly sorry. His soul reflects that, and it's rather endearing.

"It's fine. Can I help with the research, at least?" I ask. For some reason, I have some sort of strange hope that if I help, I'll get what I want. I mean, it's always worked for me in the past. Butter up my parents and then reap the rewards. It's a fool proof plan for a kid, even one who's parents were rarely around. They always try to teach that hard work and kissing up will get you wherever you want to go in life. It actually does work in the real adult world, so why not teach it young?

Of course, that principle isn't going to work out, in this case at least. "I appreciate it, Skylar, but it's not going to do much good for your case," Dean says and sits down at a table and starts looking into a thick book. "God, I hate research," he says.

"Have you guys considered using Tumblr to do your research?" I suggest. They look at me like I'm crazy, which is most likely true.

"Have you ever been on Tumblr? It is full of crazy people. Half of that website is stuff about me and Sam. They do a ton of drawings and stuff, and they've already figured out which actors would play us. This soap opera star, Jensen Ackles, is apparently perfect for my role," Dean explains.

Of course, I already know this, being a Tumblr user. I want to say something, but Sam cuts me off. "At least yours has a name that is actually pronounceable," he says.

I know exactly which actor would be perfect to play Sam. He looks just like him. They both have that certain… moose like quality to them. But Dean talks before I can say anything. "Yeah, yours is like Jared Padaleckski or something like that, right?" he asks his brother.

"Padalecki, but yeah," he says.

"I have a blog on tumblr," I say. They look at me like I'm crazy, yet again. I'm expecting that response, so I just smile. "A lot of the stuff on there does have some pretty valid information that could help. Just try looking through it," I suggest.

"That's crazy," Sam says, completely dismissing my suggestion all together, which makes me a little sad.

"Sam, it's a good idea. You could at least try it for an hour or so. You might find something interesting," Dean says, backing me up.

I mouth a thanks to him. He mouths back that it was no problem. "Fine. I'll go through Tumblr for an hour. That's it," Sam agrees.

Then, all of a sudden, Castiel appears across the room. "Great timing, Cas. You get to take Skylar shopping," Dean says with a bright smile.

"Dean, I do not… take little girls shopping. I am an angel of the lord," Cas says. The way he says things, pausing in strange places, is kind of funny.

"Well, do you have anything better to do?" Dean asks.

"I was thinking I could help with research," Cas says.

"Yeah, no. If you want to help, you can take Skylar shopping," Dean says.

"Do I have to?" Cas and I both ask.

Dean nearly starts cracking up laughing. "Skylar, you're apart of this family now. Cas, Skylar's apart of this family now, like you are. You two need some bonding time," he says.

Cas and I roll our eyes, but we eventually agree. "I am going to make you pay for this," I promise Dean. Dean laughs and then Cas and I leave.


	15. Let's Go To the Mall w Kaelyn and Maya

Cas transports us instantly to a mall in what seems to be Southern California. I can tell it's California because everybody here seems to be wearing short shorts, and it's like 60 degrees (Fahrenheit) out. The fact that it's mid June should mean that it's at least 80 degrees. But, nope. This is southern California. 60-70 degrees all day everyday. "Why are we in California?" I ask Cas.

Then, my soul seeing ability kicks in and it gives me one hell of a headache. I haven't been around this many people since I got the ability, and seeing the huge swirl of colors hurts my head to the point where I think it may explode. "Skylar, are you okay?" Cas asks me.

I shake my head and put my hands to my forehead, trying to take in everything. "My head," I say. Everything around me is swirling.

Cas crouches down next to me. "I know, it can be a bit of a headache going into crowded places. Focus on one person and you'll feel better," he says.

"Who do you usually focus on?" I ask him. I think I know what the answer is going to be-I just want to use this as a little social experiment. I want to see if everything I've heard is true.

"Dean," Cas says, which is exactly what I predicted. It's a little cliché at times-how much Cas loves Dean. I was just really happy when Carver Edlund published the books with Cas in them (there was like a three year waiting period before he did) because it meant that there was another ship besides Wincest. I never shipped that in the beginning, but I was happy to finally have a decent ship that didn't involve Sam and Dean having sex with each other.

I focused all of my energy onto Cas, and it worked rather well, surprisingly. All the other colors just sort of melted away. I'm not describing what a lot of people would call 'the point where I realized I was in love with Cas' because I'm not in love with Cas.

Everybody who may think that will happen, get that sick idea out of your head. In this entire story, I am not going to fall in love with Cas or Dean or Sam. Just get that idea out of your head, because it's not going to happen. I will end up loving these men, but I will not be _in_ love with them. Also, remember the fact that I'm eleven at this point in the story. Those men are in their thirties (well, Cas is as old as the earth itself, but you get the gist). No romance is going to happen for quite a while in this story, if it even does.

Sorry for my rampage. I just don't want to lead anyone to thinking something is going to happen when it definitely isn't. I promise that I will never lie to you when I'm writing this story. I may leave out certain truths to manipulate you, but I will never lie. I promise that.

Anyway, back to the story that I was telling you about. Cas and I walk down the halls of the giant mall. "Why are we in California?" I ask him when we pass the Wet Seal, which is right next to the giant Disney Store.

"It's far away from Kansas. You are safer here than you would have been if we were there," Cas says. I suppose that makes sense.

"Why Southern California? Ventura, of all places?" I ask. I know that it's Ventura because I can see it on many of the signs. I haven't heard very much about this city in southern California, but what I had heard wasn't very good.

"It's a large enough city with a large enough population. Seems inconspicuous that an eleven year old girl is walking with a man wearing a trench coat. It's easy to blend in," Cas says.

"Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?" I ask. Just the way that he speaks reminds me of Sherlock Holmes, that's all.

"Who is Sherlock Holmes?" he asks me, confused.

I'm not very surprised that Cas hasn't heard of Sherlock Holmes. He's not that famous, at least not in America. "He's this detective who lives in England. He's very famous for faking his death and then coming back. Caused a huge riot when he did," I say.

"I've never heard of him. Is he in a work of fiction?" Cas asks me.

I shake my head. "He's as real as you and I," I say. To prove my point, I go up to a completely random stranger that has a nice enough soul and ask them who Sherlock Holmes is.

"Um, isn't he that detective guy who lives in England who faked his own death?" the person asks me. I don't remember much about the person except for the fact that they are able to know what I am talking about.

Cas and I walk past the many, many stores. I can't find a single one that I like. All of these stores were way too girly for my taste. A pair of jeans and a t-shirt was what I like to wear now. Anything more girly than that is just beyond my taste.

Walking near the food court on the second floor of the giant building, I think that there's nothing I want. But, then, next to the glitzy Forever 21 store, there is a miracle. A Hot Topic store is standing right there, all gaunt and dark looking compared to the other lit up store fronts. Most people would be lured into everywhere but there, but not me. The inside is what attracted me to it, not the outside. The products were what I loved the most.

"Let's go in there," I tell Cas. He is confused why I would want to, but he lets me go in anyway. We head into the darkly lit store and into the crowd of people in there.

I look around, while Cas just kind of stands in the corner, not sure what to do. He's not very good around people-like a lot of people in this store, actually. I head over to the Harry Potter merchandise section, which is to the right of the entrance, and close to the window. I look through a set of pajama pants, finding the Gryffindor ones that seem to be my size.

"Are you really a Gryffindor or are you just trying to be like Harry Potter?" a girl to my left asks me, testing me. She is tall, about five foot seven inches, I'd say. Her very long hair is brown, but I can see natural highlights of honey blonde carefully woven in. Her eyes are green, and she wears big round brown glasses that have the Coach logo on the sides. She wears a Doctor Who quote t-shirt and a pair of blue Hollister jeans with a pair of black converse. Her soul is colorful and light. A lot of light blue and sweet lavender purple in it. I'd say she is about fifteen, maybe older.

At first, I'm a little freaked out. Taking a good look at her soul helps me calm down. "Believe me, I'm really a Gryffindor. I'm not trying at all to be like Harry Potter. He's not exactly perfect," I say.

The girl likes my response. "Finally, someone who agrees with me. What led you to think that?" she asks, curiosity brimming in her soul.

I don't see any harm in telling her why. She seems a lot like me, so why not? "I've read a lot of fan fiction that's from someone else's perspective. It gives me a very interesting view on the real jerk he is," I say.

The girl smiles, amused. Before she can respond, another girl comes up to her. "Kaelyn, what do you think of these shades?"

The girl that comes up to her is about five foot four. She has light red/strawberry blonde hair of medium length. I can't see her eyes (because of the sunglasses) She wears a tanktop with the cover of a certain book series on it. You would never believe it, but it's a Supernatural cover. _How ironic, _I think. The shirt has Dean and Sam on the front, although Sam has blonde hair for some reason. She wears a pair of ripped denim shorts and black combat boots. Her soul is multiple shades of green and I can see a lot of insanity in it. She seems at least a year younger than the other girl.

"You're not actually buying those, are you?" the girl, apparently called Kaelyn says, disapproval in her voice. I can't agree with her more. The sunglasses look terrible on the other girl, and they're way too flashy. Very impractical. "She reads Harry Potter fan fiction where Harry is a douche," she says before Maya can respond, gesturing towards me. I can see something strange peaking in her soul. I don't know if it's curiosity or hope, or a mixture between the two. Also, there is much amusement.

Maya looks slightly offended, but even she thinks they are terrible. When she hears about the fan fiction thing, she is amused, just like her friend. "Which ones have you read?" she asks. I can see the same strange tinge of hope in her soul, which makes me wonder.

"There's this one that I like called Serpentes et Dracones. Harry has a twin sister who is just amazing and bad ass. Also, she has this adorable romance with Draco Malfoy, and I think that they're just perfect for each other," I end up rambling on and I don't notice the giant grin on Kaelyn's face. Maya has a smaller smile, but they're both really happy by what I'm saying.

Kaelyn almost looks like she was just given a compliment. "You really like it?" she asks me, trying to control the excitement in her voice.

"Yeah. I think it's amazing," I say, shrugging. "Why?" I ask.

Kaelyn and Maya look at each other, exchanging smiles. "I'm actually the author of that," Kaelyn says. She seems very excited, but also a little bit anxious. She pulls on her left earlobe, which I assume is a nervous habit. Her ears are really tiny, I realize while looking at them behind the curtain of hair.

My eyes nearly pop out of my head. "Really? You write that?" I ask.

Kaelyn shrugs, getting a little humble all of a sudden. "Yeah, it's kind of something I became obsessed with a couple months ago," she says.

"Please tell me you're going to give Dractoria a happy ending. They deserve it more than anyone," I half beg.

"She was going to kill both of them off before Victoria could save herself, therefore erasing the majority of her life," Maya says.

My eyes widen. "No, please don't do that. They _need_ a happy ending," I beg the girl who I barely know. They must think I'm some crazy little kid, but they're still nice to me. It's good to know that there are people in the world who are nice to people like me.

Kaelyn sighs a slight chuckle. "Don't worry. I talked myself out of it. It just made me so depressed when I realized that all of what they were doing was for nothing-that there was no point to what I was writing," she says.

"So what house are you in?" I ask the two girls.

"Slytherin," Maya says without hesitation. I look over at Kaelyn, who still hasn't answered.

"Well, I've taken so many quizzes. I've been sorted into Gryffindor almost as many times as I've been sorted into Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Honestly, I'm not sure if I'm really Gryffindor. I think I'd prefer to be a Slytherin if I had the choice," she explains.

I smirk. "Why Slytherin? Because Draco Malfoy is there?" I ask her, teasingly. I'm actually joking when I say that, but she takes it completely seriously.

Kaelyn looks down at the ground, which is enough of an answer for me combined with the slight blush appearing on her face. "She's completely in love with Draco Malfoy," Maya says with a smirk.

"Like you've never been in love with fictional characters before," Kaelyn retorts, but her face is red. I don't even think she's all that embarrassed at this point. I think it's just something that her face does on its own. She's more annoyed than anything else.

"Dean Winchester…" Maya says, looking up at the ceiling all dreamily. I nearly burst out into laughter. "What's so funny about being in love with Dean Winchester? It's the same exact thing as being in love with Draco Malfoy!" Maya snaps.

I shake my head, trying to keep myself from laughing. "Nothing. I just find it a little strange that you've never actually seen him-at least Draco Malfoy has an actor to play him," I say.

Kaelyn and Maya look at me very seriously. "You don't need to know what a character looks like to fall in love with them," Maya says.

"You fall in love with their words and their actions. You basically fall in love with their souls," Kaelyn says, completely serious. These girls are very intense about their fictional crushes. I think they're also trying to teach me something. I mean, I'm only eleven. I don't know everything, and I need to be taught some things.

If they could only see souls, then they might think a little differently. "How did you fall in love with Draco, then? I mean, no offense, he was portrayed as a complete dick in the books," I say. I honestly want to know. I don't really understand how she was able to turn such a terrible and evil character into this amazing, sarcastic, perfect person in her fan fiction.

"There was always that one thing about Draco that I saw. He was always misunderstood, in my opinion. I could see that he really could be a great person, if given the right guidance. I wanted to explain in my fan fiction why he was such a dick to Harry," Kaelyn explains.

I think she's some sort of philosopher or something, because she is acting like a complete genius. Maya doesn't buy it. "No, you just think he's really hot," she says.

Kaelyn turns to her friend. "That is a big reason, I'll admit," she says. "But I wasn't lying about the first part." She turns to me. "Sorry, I get a little bit obsessed."

"Don't we all?" I ask her. Kaelyn laughs a little, as does Maya.

"What's your name?" Kaelyn asks.

I consider lying to her, but then think against it. I would be able to tell if she was a demon or something like that. "Skylar," I say. I don't tell her my last name, and I don't plan on it.

"Coolest name ever. I wish I got a name better than Kaelyn. It's so girly, and there's this really annoying girl at my school who has the same name I do," she says. I actually really like the name, Kaelyn, so I don't see the problem. Although, Skylar is pretty awesome, I'll admit.

"At least you don't have to go to school with her next year," Maya points out.

"Why not?" I ask them.

"We're starting high school next year, and I'm going to this private school, where other Kaelyn is going to public. It's definitely an upside," Kaelyn explains.

Wait, if she's only starting high school, that means that she's only like thirteen or fourteen, not fifteen or sixteen like I thought she was. That also means that Maya is the same age. "I thought you were fifteen," I say.

Kaelyn shrugs. "I get that a lot. Most people think I look too old or act too old or something to be fourteen," she says.

"People think I'm younger than her whenever I'm around her. Then they hear me talk, and they realize that it's not the case," Maya says. I don't even want to know what that's supposed to mean, because I can see something in her soul that suggests certain things that I'd prefer not to think about.

Kaelyn puts her hand on her forehead and shakes her head slowly, ashamed of her friend. "This is what I have to deal with," she tells me. I laugh a little, even though I can tell she's being completely serious.

Then, Cas comes over and ruins everything. "Skylar, we need to leave. I don't think that Dean would be very happy with you being gone for too long," he says.

Before I can respond, Kaelyn and Maya go all fangirl on Cas's ass. "Nice Castiel cosplay. You even got it down with the voice and everything," Kaelyn says.

"You even look like Misha Collins a little," Maya adds.

"What is this… cosplay thing?" Cas asks, really confused.

"He's even acting like Cas. Impressive," Kaelyn says.

"Shows real dedication," Maya says, impressed.

While I'm happy that they've read the books, I'm not too pleased about the fact that they know who Cas is, and can recognize him. I mean, I'm surprised that Carver Edlund published more books after the death threats from Sam and Dean. The fact that Castiel can be recognized is slightly disturbing and annoying. It also means that I shouldn't go out in public with him.

"Cas, I haven't bought anything yet. I think Dean will be more pissed if you take me all this way and not get me anything," I say. I wish I could use names besides Dean and Cas, but I know Cas won't understand if I do.

"Dean and Cas? You're in on this, too?" Maya asks me.

"Yep, we're cosplaying," I say, although I don't believe myself. I try to make it sound convincing, but I fail at it miserably. I hope to god that Kaelyn and Maya don't pick up that.

Of course, I don't realize that Kaelyn is good at reading people, just like me. "Either you're really good at acting and this is some sort of big plan or whatever, or you're lying about the entire cosplaying thing. Personally, I like to think that the more ridiculous option is the truth," she says.

I'm not good at lying. I'll be the first to admit that. I just act all nervous and don't say anything. "Oh my god, _seriously_?" Kaelyn asks.

"No, not seriously," I say, although I'm _terrible_ at lying and just give it away completely.

"Holy fuck," Maya says, barely believing it. I find it funny that they are able to make the conclusion that Cas is really the actual Cas. "I knew it," Maya says, eyes wide with amazement.

"My brother owes me a hundred bucks," Kaelyn says.

Cas is just kind of standing there, not sure what's going on. "You guys can't tell anyone. _Please_," I beg.

Kaelyn and Maya look like I just asked them to hold an exploding grenade, which I suppose it is. But, in the end, they agree. "Thank you so much," I say.

"Can I write a fanfiction about you? _Please_?" Kaelyn asks me.

"Why do you get to write the fanfiction?" Maya asks her.

Kaelyn uses her powers of logic to get the win. "You have a fanfiction, and you post once a month. I post at least twice a week for mine. Therefore, I get the rights," she reasons.

Also, I really like her fanfiction, so maybe it would be a good idea. "Kaelyn, you can write it, I guess. How will you get all the information?" I ask.

Kaelyn shrugs. "You can email me the main details, and then I can make up the rest," she says. Brilliant. Why didn't I think of that? Of course, there's another idea that I have.

At first I'm a little scared to ask it. Then, I tell myself that Victoria Potter would never be afraid to get what she wants. "What if I write it and then email it to you and you edit it and post it under your pen-name?" I suggest.

Instead of getting angry or upset, Kaelyn gets really excited. "That's a _great_ idea! That way we can have all the details, but we still get my sort of writing style," she says.

"Perfect. What's your email?" I ask her. Kaelyn pulls out a pen from her faux dark grey leather satchel. I can see a blue notebook in her bag, as well as a book. She takes my wrist and writes down her email. "Do you also want to follow my blog on Tumblr?" she asks me. I nod, and she writes down her url. It's** .com** "Email me whenever you can. Of course, I completely understand if you don't have very much time with everything," she says.

"Believe me, life at the bunker is not that interesting. The only exciting part of the day is when I get to fight Dean, and he beats me every single time," I say. With that, I say goodbye and Cas and I buy a few things. I get a pair of pajama pants, a few tops, a really cool jacket, a pair of metallic colored combat boots, a couple pairs of jeans, and an exploding TARDIS bag, as well as a couple posters. I don't care if Dean gets angry about buying stuff I don't need or talking to people. I haven't seen a person even close to my age in three weeks, and I know it's going to be a long time before I do again.


	16. Talking can be Dangerous

Dean gets really angry with Cas when he finds out that I took so long, but got so little. Also, the fact that I talked to strangers wasn't something he was particularly happy about, either. He is really angry at Cas, which really makes me feel bad. What'e even more heartbreaking is that Cas just sits here, not sure what to do.

Eventually, I can't take it anymore. I really should have stood up for Cas from the beginning, but I was scared. I'm eleven-can you imagine just sitting there while Dean gets upset feeling like it's your fault? It would scare you, to say the least. "Dean, it wasn't Cas's fault," I say.

Dean is completely unfazed by what I said. In fact, it seems as though he was expecting it. "Skylar, he was supposed to be making sure you didn't do anything stupid. That was his responsibility, not yours," Dean says firmly.

Honestly, that's so freaking ridiculous, I can't even believe he said that. "Dean, Cas isn't responsible for my actions. That's all me," I say.

I'm about to say more, but Cas stops me. "Skylar, please stay out of this," he says. What is up with these two being so ridiculous? It's as if stupidity is a sexually transmitted disease or something, and Cas contracted it when he had sex with Dean. (Yes, that totally happened. I'm convinced of it) The only sane person besides me seems to be Sam, assuming he doesn't prove me wrong.

"No!" I protest, and then I keep going. "Dean, if you were at the edge of a cliff and someone begged you not to jump off, but you still did, would it be that other person's fault? No, of course not! It would be your own decision. Other people aren't responsible for your actions. Only you are. Now, if Cas had _forced _me to talk to complete strangers and getting unnecessary things, then, yeah, that would be another story," I say, nearly running out of breath at the end. I'm just trying to convince Dean that it's not Cas's fault, because it's not. It's completely my fault. Nobody has control over another's actions-not completely. There's always the ability to rebel or go against. In order to follow someone's orders, you have to have some consent in the decision.

Dean just glares at me, not entirely sure what to say. I keep staring at him, just focusing on his glowing red soul. He's angry at me, and I know that he doesn't want to take it out on me, which I get. I really get that. I would be angry if a twelve year old (yes, I do mean twelve, not eleven, so don't try to correct me. Have you ever considered the possibility that I had a birthday? If I had a birthday early on in the bunker, would I have mentioned it to the boys? Most likely not. I didn't even mention it to you guys, because it was so unimportant to me at the time, with everything else going on) showed me up.

Then, something happens that I am not expecting at all. A certain moose of mine proves that he isn't stupid, after all. He starts clapping. Dean immediately looks over his shoulder and glares at his younger brother. "Dean, she does have a point. You, of all people, should know that others are not completely responsible for your actions. You always have some say in what happens," Sam says, shrugging.

Dean rolls his eyes, but I can see his soul changing color. "Okay, fine, it's not Cas's fault. You made your point," he says. I feel a quick surge of victory, until Dean turns the entire thing around on me. I suppose that it is a little bit expected, considering I just made a whole point about how it was my fault, and not the angel's. "Can I ask you one little question? Why in hell would you waste your opportunity to get clothes by talking to complete strangers?" he asks, angry.

I don't have to consider my answer for very long. I know what I'm going to say almost immediately after he starts talking. I cross my arms. "I haven't seen anyone besides you three in almost a month. If I want to talk to people who are relatively close to my age, I'll do just that. I can always order stuff online, if I need to. It's unlikely that I'll talk to a person my age in a long time," I say.

Dean isn't happy about what I'm saying, but I think that he is beginning to understand. "Dean, she does have a good point," Sam says.

For a while, I think he's just going to stay mad, and have some angry retort or something. I am proven wrong when I see him soften up. "Just don't make that mistake again, okay, kid?" Dean tells me.

He wants me to tell him that I won't, but I don't tell him that. "I probably will make that same decision again, because it wasn't a mistake. You can't tell me that talking to two lovely people was a mistake," I say, and I'm firm with what I'm saying. I'm not going to back down to Dean Winchester just because he's a crazy ass murderer (I know, he's also a hero, but looking from a monster's point of view, he's a serial killer) I don't care how much Dean may scare the shit out of me, I'm not backing down-especially when I'm right.

Dean shifts his position and stares at me directly in the eye, trying to intimidate me or something. I don't flinch under the stare at all. Instead, I stare right back at him, with complete determination. "You know, you've got a lot of nerve, Skylar," Dean says, just enough anger in his voice.

"Looks like I'll fit in well around here," I say, without taking my eyes off of his for one second. I don't even blink once.

I head to my room for a few minutes, just to put my stuff away and hang up my posters. I think, though, that I did good out there with the whole Dean situation. I'm actually rather proud of myself. When I come back out, I hear Sam talking to Dean, so I hide behind a wall and listen in, because I'm just that awesome.

"You know, Dean, she had some really good points," Sam says.

"I know, she did. But that doesn't mean that it wasn't a stupid thing to do. Getting at all attached to people puts them in danger. Skylar just put those two girls in danger, especially when she told them that we're real. Now those two fourteen year old girls are in danger," Dean says. I never thought of it that way, and I immediately feel a lot of regret. Did I really just put those two girls in danger?

"Dean, you're overreacting. Just because Skylar talked to them does not mean that they are in danger. Plenty of people know that we're real. That doesn't mean they are automatically dead," Sam says. I suppose that Dean is overreacting a bit, but that only makes me feel a little bit better.

"I'm just saying, man. Most of the people we meet end up dead at one point or another," Dean says.

"I think that if you explain that to her, she might listen to your suggestion," Sam says, although he didn't sound so sure.

Before Dean can respond, I come out and say, "I'm sorry I made that mistake. I didn't realize I was putting that girl in danger."

Dean and Sam turn around and look at me, surprised. "You didn't just put that girl in danger, though, Skylar. Demons are everywhere, even in California, and admitting where you are was not a smart move," Dean says.

"I'm sorry. Everybody makes mistakes, though," I say, feeling just a little bit past depressed. Then, I added, "It sucks that I can't talk to someone without putting them and myself in danger."

Dean nods. "I know, kid. I'm sorry. I wish that things were different. You deserve better."

**So that was it for that chapter. I hope you liked it! I'm going on a two week vacation, so I won't be able to post again until I get back. If you liked that chapter, please give me a good review. I love hearing everything that you guys have to say. I also haven't gotten a review in four chapters, which makes me a little bit sad. I look forward to reading reviews whenever I post a chapter. Literally, guys, your positive reviews make my day. Also, if there's anything you'd like to see happen in a future chapter, I am very open to suggestions. I'll even give a little shoutout to anyone who comes up with a good idea. Like, I'll put that this was suggested by (insert username) at the beginning of the chapter or something like that. Just, please, don't hesitate to review and suggest anything. I love hearing everything that you guys have to say. Thanks for reading this so much. **


	17. Better Than They Were

**So I'm back from vacation. I had a great time, by the way. Did you know that the sun only sets for fifteen minutes in Alaska? I didn't, and my sleeping schedule was very messed up. So, I hope you enjoy this chapter of Cavere, and please write a review at the end. I really love hearing from you all. I have been made aware that I should make it clear who's point of view a chapter is if it's not Skylar's. I'll make sure to do that from now on. This chapter is from Skylar's point of view, so yeah.**

"Aren't you at all angry that you met the demon responsible for the death of your family?" Dean asks me one day, about a month after I arrive. We are sitting at the dinner table, eating some really good burgers that Dean made. I'm barely paying attention to life beyond this burger, because, damn it's good.

It takes me a little while to realize that Dean's talking to me. I mean, who else would he be talking to, considering that Sam is gone for the day. Sam usually leaves once in a while, mainly because he hates being cooped up with me and Dean. I can't blame him for wanting to leave the house. If there weren't demons after me, and if Dean would let me, I would leave, too.

When I do realize that Dean's talking to me, I look up. "Um, not really," I admit. It seems a little strange, but I honestly haven't given it much thought. Also, there is the fact that I really don't believe that Crowley did it. He really didn't seem like he gave that much thought. It was more like an after note. I think that if he really did it, he would have made a bigger deal out of it. I think he wasn't thinking through what he was saying, and just hastily added it.

"But don't you want revenge?" Dean asks me, not-so-strangely confused with my response. From what I know about him, he takes revenge on demons that screw him over. I mean, he spent the majority of his life trying to track down and kill the demon who killed his mom. I mean, I get the whole being upset and wanting justice, but that ain't gonna bring anyone back.

"No," I say, kind of absent-mindedly. I get back to eating, and watch Dean's face and soul go shocked, which is a little bit funny. "What really is the point of revenge? Does it really do anyone any good?" I ask him.

"'Does it really do anyone any good?'" Dean scoffs. "You'd be ridding the world of something that would kill others without hesitation," he says.

"Then why have you kept Crowley alive for so long?" I ask him. I guess I'm a little bit brilliant, yes. I love turning situations around on other people so they seem like they're the wrong ones in the situation. It makes life so much more fun.

Dean hesitates before answering. He seems stumped for a few seconds. "That is not related to the conversation at all," he says, although even he doesn't sound like he believes himself. It is completely related to the conversation. I give him a questioning look. "If you really want to know, Crowley's been useful. We actually need him," he admits.

"Then why did you ask about revenge? If I would have said yes, you couldn't have just been like 'okay, too bad,'" I say. I mean, I suppose he could have said that, but that would have just been rude. I mean, putting the prospect of revenge in front of a twelve year old and then taking it away isn't like taking candy from a baby. It's very easy to do, but it's very, very cruel.

"I would have let you do something. I mean, I wouldn't go as far as let you actually kill him yourself, but you would have liked to see him be tortured, right? I'd be happy to do that for you," Dean says, completely serious. He's acting like what he's saying is normal, too. That's not scary or psychotic at _all_.

My eyes widen with fear. This is probably the first time that I realize that this guys is a killer, not just a nice guy who decided to take care of a troubled little girl. He has killed more things than most serial killers. He has tortured many, many souls and demons. "Well, that's not terrifying at all," I murmur.

Dean just kind of goes quiet for a while. He has no clue what to say, considering he did just offer to torture someone for a twelve year old. It's a really good thing that I'm not impressionable, or Dean would be screwed. Eventually, the silence goes on for long enough. "Son of a bitch. As if I didn't terrify you enough already with beating you to a pulp the first few days you were here," he murmurs to himself.

I object to that particular statement. "You did _not_ beat me to a pulp. I put up a pretty good fight," I say. What can I say? I'm starting to become a Winchester. I'm not going to let Dean tell me that it was easy for him to crush me, or that he even did crush me. I'll admit, I was a terrible fighter at first. But, I'm determined. I got better quickly. I'm still getting better, and I'll eventually become just as good as Dean and his little brother. Maybe even better. And if you say that I'm a girl, and that because of that, I can't be better than Sam or Dean Winchester. Girls are a thousand times more determined than men, which most people don't realize. If men had half of our determination, they would be five hundred times better than they are.

"You're also twelve, Skylar. If I beat you to a pulp, you could call child protective services," Dean says, acting like he easily could if he wanted to. I mean, it is definitely physically possible, but I don't think his conscience would be able to let him seriously injure a twelve year old.

"Why would I want to do that? You're a much better parent than my actual parents were," I say, and start regretting it immediately after I say it. I mean, it's true and all. But, my parents are dead. I should be romanticizing them, not saying what crap they were at being parents. Dean is much better than they ever were, though. I mean, he's a bit of a hard ass and border lining psychopath, but on the inside, he's a big ol' teddy bear. He actually cares about me, despite the fact that he barely knows me. He makes sure that I'm not alone, especially right now. He keeps my mind off the things that make me upset, and he helps me through everything.

The most important thing that makes Dean a better parent than my parents is that he's here for me. That's the one thing that my parents never were. They'd always be gone working, and leave Zack and I with a nanny. Usually it was a different one every month, because Zack and I would pull pranks on them to make them quit. Mary Poppins definitely influenced my childhood-the beginning at least. Zack and I never quite made it to the ending.

"Don't say that, Skylar. They were your parents," Dean says, and takes a huge mouthful of his burger. He seems…almost angry at me for saying that. It's not like I'm offending him, or anything. Well, not unless comparing him to my crap parents offends him.

"There's no point in romanticizing them, just because they're dead," I say, realizing how pointless it really is. Death shouldn't make someone so much better. They were assholes, and death didn't magically change that.

"But they were your parents," Dean says, as if that makes such a big difference.

"I didn't have any parents, other than biologically speaking. Sure, they paid the bills and made sure I was taken care of. But they weren't ever there for me when I needed them," I say. The only reason why I know anything about biology is Tumblr. Tumblr is the reason why I feel like I'm seventeen, and not twelve. Well, that and the whole family dying thing. That definitely aged me a bit, to say the least.

"Give me one instance where you needed them and they weren't there," Dean says. He's barking up the wrong tree. I have so many examples of that, it would blow your brains out.

I don't have to think for very long. I come up with one of the more tragic stories that was quite possibly one of the worst things ever to happen to me before my brother died. "On my tenth birthday, I broke my ankle at softball practice. I had nobody to call, cuz Zack didn't have a cell phone and my nanny was off duty until six. My parents had been in Tokyo for the past two weeks, and weren't scheduled to return for three more weeks. The coaches were idiots who thought that I just jammed my shin, and that nothing was really wrong with me. I mean, it hurt like hell, but I was tough and I didn't think that it would be something as awful as a broken ankle. I basically had to sit there for two hours with my ankle feeling like hell until Zack and my nanny picked me up and realized that I needed to go to the hospital. I spent the rest of the evening in the hospital with my ankle feeling like hell. I had to eat disgusting hospital food for my birthday dinner," I explain.

Before I get a reaction from Dean about how terrible that is, he asks one more question. "How the hell did you break your ankle in a softball practice?"

I would be curious, too, I guess, so I have no trouble answering. "We were practicing sliding for the first time. My foot got caught in the dirt and my ankle just sort of bent backward too far," I explain.

Dean takes a long time to respond, which doesn't really surprise me. I mean, I'm sure that Dean has plenty of terrible things that happened to him as a kid because of his terrible father, so it makes sense that he takes a while to respond. But, in the end, even he has to admit that this sucks. "Wow, that sounds like quite possibly one of the worst birthdays ever," he says. I think that he's going to stop there, and that I'll have my moment. But then Dean brings up something that reminds me that I will never win an argument with the Winchesters. "Of course, Sam died and I sold my soul to bring him back on his birthday, so he wins."

"Damn you Winchesters. Can't I ever just win an argument," I murmur underneath my breath, but I purposefully make it loud enough for Dean to hear me.

Dean decides to bring the conversation back to me, which is a very smart thing to do. "Still, that does suck, and I guess that I see your point." I don't respond, mainly because I don't know what to say to that. 'Yeah' is the only thing that I can think of, and that sounds like something only someone really shallow would say. Luckily, Dean picks the conversation back up. "But you consider me a parent?" he asks.

I shrug. "Well, what else would I consider you to be? I mean, it's not like I'm going to think of you as an older brother, considering you're nineteen years older than me. I guess I could consider you an uncle, but what would be the point in that. Nope, you're a parent to me, considering I'm never going to have anyone better," I explain.

Dean seems to thing that it's a logical explanation, but he's not done asking questions. "What do you consider Sam, then?" he asks me.

What do I consider Sam? God, I have a hard time not sounding like a complete asshole, which is the only reason why I take so long to respond. "Reluctant care-giver," I end up saying. It's the best thing I can say without being harsh and rude.

"And by that you mean a complete asshole," Dean says, completely reading my thoughts. I smile guiltily. "You don't have to be polite, kid. If you have a problem with Sam, you can say so. And, from the way that he's treating you, I don't blame you," he says.

Honestly, I'm a little surprised. From what I've read in the books, Dean and Sam will go to the ends of the earth to defend each other. Now Dean's just like 'oh, if you think he's an asshole, it's okay' It really doesn't make much sense to me. I kind of just give Dean a look of complete shock and confusion as my response.

Dean sighs, annoyed by my reaction to what he said. "Listen, I might go to the ends of the earth to defend my brother, but I have my limits. When he's being a dick to someone who, in no way, deserves it, I can admit that and let that person be mad at him."

That does seem reasonable. "I just don't know what I've done to piss him off. He always seems like he's trying to get away from me. In the books, he was always the nice one. You were always the one who would be rude to strangers," I say, confused by how it ended up being so different.

"I just think he's having a hard time adjusting to you being here. I think part of that is that he honestly thinks you're going to end up dying, as harsh as that sounds. Everybody who we meet ends up dying, and Sam doesn't want to get close to you if that ends up happening," Dean explains. Well, that's not soul crushing at all.

Then I ask something that's been haunting me for quite some time-ever since the demons broke into my house and tried to kill me. "Do you think I'm gonna die?" I ask quietly.

I honestly did not mean to crush Dean's soul at all when I said that. But, what can I say? I'm cursed. The look Dean gives me after I ask that question is heartbreaking. He has so much pity, so much sadness, but at the same time, so much bravery and confidence in that look. "I'm not going to let that happen," he says, completely confident in his answer.

I know that now's not the time to make movie/book references, but I have to. The moment is just too perfect and my reference suits the conversation perfectly. "Four said that to Tris once, and she ended up dead. How can you be so sure of yourself?" I ask him.

Dean surprisingly answers that quickly, which I am not expecting. And, you'd think it would be a good sign, but it isn't. His response isn't exactly reassuring. But, it makes me laugh a little, so it is helpful in one way. "I'm batman," he says.

I roll my eyes, and we continue eating our food. We don't really talk about anything important, mainly because we've already hit all the pressure points and there's no point continuing the conversation. Also, I'm done for the day with important stuff. I just want to try to explain why it is people should ship Dractoria instead of Dramione. Dean has no idea what I'm talking about for the most part, but it still feels good to talk about something that has very little weight to it.

**Thanks for reading this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it! I'm sorry it took so long to write, but it is over 2,000 words (not counting the parts where I talk for a long time at the beginning and the end). In this fan fiction, I may end up referring to my other fan fiction, Serpentes et Dracones, often. Sorry, I just can't resist. I apologize in advance if it becomes annoying at all. Also, I have the pleasure of informing you all that I have made a new cover that is a thousand times better than the awful cover that I had before. I have decided that Joey King is the one who would play Skylar if this ever became a movie, which is never going to happen, obviously. I just imagine Skylar to look a lot like Joey, so yeah. Also, the whole incident with Skylar breaking her ankle at softball practice on her birthday is inspired by a true event that happened to me on my twelfth birthday. My dad was an hour away, and my mom couldn't pick me up, either so I did have to wait for some time. The whole bit about the coaches being idiots because I was too tough to think that there was something seriously wrong with my ankle is very true. It's not my fault that I don't cry a ton when my ankle is broken. Luckily, though, I got to go to Disneyland four days later, and I skipped the majority of the lines because I couldn't walk. I suppose there is always a silver lining to everything. And, I didn't have to go to the hospital because my Dad happens to be a surgeon, specializing in feet and ankles, so he knew exactly what was wrong with me the second I came home, and he took care of everything without a single trip to a hospital. **


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